


Sins of the Father

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Angst, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of these days Charlie Venkman's cons and dubious dealings would come back to bite him. Too bad that the target is his son...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties

**Sins of the Father**

Birgit Stäbler

 

 

The Port of Authority Bus Depot of New York City was bustling with people, though it didn't appear overly crowded. At this time of the day, late in the morning, most of the busses were still to come, though a few had arrived recently. It would be more than crowded in one or two hours. Passengers for future departures and waiting friends or relatives sat or strolled around in the waiting area. One of the waiting men was studying the time table for the arrivals. The bus he was waiting for would arrive in about ten minutes.

"Dr. Peter Venkman?"

The dark-haired man turned around, a surprised look on his face. The speaker was about his height, blond and casually dressed. He looked like all the other people in the waiting area.

"Yes?" Peter answered cautiously.

"You are Dr. Peter Venkman? Charles Venkman is your father?"

 _Oh-oh_ , Peter thought. _Something to do with my Dad._ That could either be something really bad or something too good to be true. Either way it made Peter even more cautious. "Yeah, that's me," he confirmed.

"Would you please accompany me?" the non descript stranger asked politely.

Peter frowned. "Accompany you? Where to? Is something the matter with my Dad?"

The blond smiled. "Yes, it has something to do with your father. And if you would now follow me ...?" He was still polite, but something about him made Peter feel very itchy.

"You still haven't answered my question. Where are we going? And why?"

The smile faded a bit and Peter noticed the hard look in the other man's grey eyes. "Please don't make this harder on yourself than necessary, Dr. Venkman. Follow me." His right hand touched his sports jacket and revealed a gun. For just a second Peter saw the weapon until the man hid it under the jacket again.

"What's going on?" he wanted to know, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and surpressed anger. "Who are you? Police? Is my Dad in trouble?" Part of his mind told him that that guy couldn't be with the police because if he was he'd have shown Peter his badge instead of a gun.

The stranger still smiled. "I will take you to someone who will explain everything to you, Dr. Venkman. Now ....?" He made an inviting gesture and Peter started to walk. His mind reeled as he wondered what was going on and what would await him. Could all of this just be an elaborate hoax? Some joke his father was playing on him? No, that couldn't be, he decided. But why would an armed stranger threaten him? And had he really threatened him? No, he had simply asked to accompany him.

Peter noticed they were leaving the waiting area and passing through one of the corridors leading to the bus departure area. There were only a few people in sight, but Peter didn't even try to signal any of them that he was in trouble. If this guy started shooting around the passenger area, who knew what could happen? They left the corridor and passed through a door, suddenly standing on the parking spot for the busses. One of the busses just left while another arrived. As the passengers got out and lined up around the bus to receive their baggage the man hissed: "Don't try to warn anyone, Dr. Venkman."

Well, that was a threat, Peter decided. Whatever was going on, it wasn't a joke, that much was for sure. He simply nodded and walked past the passengers. The man gave him a little push in the direction of the bus garage where the busses were lined up for servicing.

"Listen," Peter tried to start a conversation again, "whatever is going on here I think you're making a big mistake."

The blond smiled again. "I don't think so."

"What did my Dad do? Con you? Are you mad at him?"

"You will be told in time."

They had arrived at the depot and Peter spotted a grey, non descript car with New York license plates beside a bus. There was still no-one around. As they reached the car, Peter decided that he had to do something. This guy was kidnapping him, for God's sake! A small part of Peter's mind reminded him of the fact that the stranger was armed, but another part told him that the weapon was concealed under the jacket and that if he acted quickly, the stranger would have no chance to pull and fire it.

As they stopped by the car, which, Peter noted, was empty, he tensed, ready to act. Either the stranger had predicted this or he was simply being cautious; he suddenly held a piece of cloth over Peter's mouth and nose. Peter struggled, trying to get away from the man, but the slim figure of the blond belied his strength. He held on to Peter, pressing the cloth on his face, ignoring the psychologist's feeble punches.

Peter's world tilted sideways as he lost consciousness, barely aware of falling to the ground. His last conscious sensation was that of being bound and gagged and then thrown into the car.

Everything around him blacked out.

 

* * *

 

At Ghostbuster Central everything was going normally. Janine Melnitz was filing away the recent cases while fending off Slimer, their pet ghost, who was trying to get some pieces of her lunch. In the kitchen on the second floor, Winston Zeddemore was preparing himself a sandwich and milkshake, hoping Slimer was too caught up in snitching Janine's lunch to bother him. Egon Spengler was immersed in an experiment in the third floor lab, too absorbed in his work to think about food.

Due to the payments from some profitable busts, the Ghostbuster's bank account was pretty healthy, and because of all the money coming in, Janine was finally able to pay the last of the bills. Peter still had to place the ads for the next quarter of the year and then she'd even be able to file that away until the next time. He had promised her to get everything done when he returned from picking up Ray at the bus station.

Humming to herself, Janine wrote down another payment received on account, smiling as she saw that the transaction brought them out of the red. All that was needed to make this day complete was an invitation from Egon for dinner and maybe a movie or the opera. She grinned wryly. _Only in your dreams_ , _Melnitz_. It would need some fast talking to convince the blond physicist that a date with her was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Slimer made another dash for her sandwich and Janine fended him off. "Slimer, get away from the files!" she ordered sharply. "You'll get slime all over them and I'll have to do everything again!"

The green ghost hung its head. "Aw," he muttered in disappointment, looking longingly at the sandwich.

The red-haired secretary sighed in defeat and threw the partly wrapped turkey sandwich over to him. Slimer caught it happily, making a show of chewing it. Normally he really didn't need to chew; he could swallow a whole wedding cake without a problem.

Janine went back to work.

She looked up as the door to the fire hall opened about half an hour later. A smile spread over her face as she recognized the new arrival. "Ray!"

"Hi, Janine," Ray Stantz greeted her and walked over to the desk, setting down his baggage.

Janine looked past him, frowning. "Wasn't Peter with you?"

"That's what I thought, too," the occultist answered cheerfully. "When we talked yesterday he said he'd pick me up at the bus station, but he wasn't there. I thought he'd be late, but after two hours I took a cab home."

Janine's frown deepened. "He left here on time to get to the port authority before your bus arrived."

"Maybe he was held up somewhere?"

"More 'by someone', most likely by a pretty woman." The red-head snorted. "That's like Peter."

Ray shrugged and grinned. "Doesn't matter. I'll go upstairs to unpack." With that he went over to the stairs and up to the second floor. Janine heard him greet Winston, then she returned to her work.

 

*

 

"Ray!" Winston Zeddemore smiled in welcome as he saw his younger friend. "How was the visit to your cousin Sam?"

Ray grinned in return. "Just great. We had a fun time on the farm and she invited all of us up for Thanksgiving dinner."

"That's awfully nice," Zeddemore said. "Considering what has happened when we first met her. Speaking of which, where's Peter? Still downstairs?"

Ray shook his head. "No. He never made it to the bus station. I waited for him, but he didn't show up, so I decided to take a taxi home."

Winston frowned. "Doesn't sound like Pete at all. He left here early enough and told us he wanted to take the subway, then get a taxi for both of you. He couldn't take Ecto because I was still doing some work on the engine."

"Janine thinks he might have met a pretty girl in distress." The occultist didn't sound angry, merely amused by that fact. He wasn't someone to hold a grudge because he hadn't been picked up as promised.

"Even so, he would have tried to make it." Zeddemore shrugged. "But then, I never understood how exactly that brain of his works."

"I'll go upstairs and unpack my stuff," Ray said and went over to the stairs. "I bet he'll be home this evening, telling us what a great lady he met and then remember that he was supposed to pick me up."

Winston smiled. "Yeah, that's Pete."

As Ray headed for the third floor, the black Ghostbuster frowned. Though he could agree with Ray, none of this sounded like Peter. He had never forgotten plans concerning his friends, even if he was held up by a lady friend. Then he shrugged. What the heck! It was Peter Venkman he was speculating about. He never behaved predictably.

 

* * *

 

There was a sound.

It was a voice, he decided. He couldn't make out the words, but he was sure someone was talking. Concentrating on the voice he tried to get out of the black swamp he was in. It was an effort, but he was growing more and more aware of the sounds and smells around him. The voice turned out to be several voices and the smell proved to be one of rotting wood and damp stone. He felt like he was bound, at least his hands felt that way. Pain swamped his mind and he had to bite his lips not to make a sound. His head pounded and he felt nauseated. Cracking an eye open he tried to focus on something around him. What he saw didn't make him feel much better.

The room was barely lit, the only light coming through a broken window, which was partly sealed by wooden planks. Old furniture stood in one corner of the room, covered by dirty linen, which had once been white or creme colored, now it was only greyish green, tattered and partly burned. The floor was made of wood and littered with paper and garbage and the wallpaper had an exotic look, though the color was gone; it must have been pretty expensive once. He was tied to a chair, facing the door.

"Ah, we're awake," one of the voices, a male one, said.

Peter Venkman cracked the other eye open. The man was short but with a slim figure, his hair short and greying. He was dressed in an expensive suit and smoking a thin cigar. A pair of glasses adorned his face and blue, cold eyes examined Peter.

"Dr. Venkman, I presume," he said in a falsely friendly and slightly accented voice.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, his voice hoarse from the drug he had been given.

"How rude of me." A predatory smile appeared on the thin lips. "My name if Lenard. Jean Lenard."

"Should I know you?"

The smile broadened a bit. "I don't think so. I know your father, that should be enough."

Peter licked his dry lips. "What does all of this have to do with my father?"

"Everything. You see, your father tried to sell me an object, I bought it, and he disappeared with the money. After he was gone I found out it was just a lie, a scam. Now I want my money back. Since Mr. Venkman can't be found anywhere I took the next best available option to get to him." He flicked the cigar and it landed on the floor. "Very simple."

"What does that have to do with me? I haven't seen my father for over seven months. I don't even know where he is right now."

"Maybe." Lenard's cold eyes fixed on Peter. "But then again, maybe you do. We'll find out."

Cold sweat broke out on Peter's forehead. "What .. what do you mean by that?" he asked, trying to hide his growing fear.

"We have our ways," the short man answered with another smile.

"Does one these ways include a pretty woman?"

Lenard kept on smiling. "I think that could be arranged, but I suspect it would take too long."

"Aw, gee, how disappointing."

"But we have something that might give you some nice dreams if you work with us, Dr. Venkman."

Peter snorted. "You won't get a word out of me, buddy, since I don't know where my Dad is."

"If you really don't know, there's always another way. I'm sure your father will contact you, to boast about his latest scam. Then we'll have him. But before we exert ourselves, we'll let you answer some questions." He gestured to a man who had been standing in the shadows for the whole conversation. When he stepped forward Peter recognized the blond man from the bus station.

The man was carrying a black box, which he set down and opened. Peter gulped as he saw the syringe and the small flask with the colorless liquid. _Drugs_ , his mind told him.

"I've already had my share of shots for this year," Peter said with false cheeriness.

Lenard didn't answer, simply stepped out of the way of the blond. Peter felt the needle pierce his skin and he thought he could feel the drug enter his system.

"We have to wait for about three minutes," the blond said. "Then the drug will take effect."

Lenard nodded, his eyes never leaving the pale, sweating face of Peter Venkman, who returned his stare with a cold glare of defiance of his own.

 

* * *

 

They had come again.

He could feel it like another could feel the temperature changing from hot to cold or vice versa.

And they had brought another one.

He didn't know who it was, he simply felt the change. It was a subtle change, not too strong to be of real concern, but in the last few months he had learned to listen to that strange, new feeling he experienced from time to time. Most of the time this feeling had to do with the humans he felt in its realm; humans bringing and leaving food; humans giving him the power he needed to cross the boundaries of his prison and come to this glittering, breathing, pulsating dimension of human life. Just the thought of the life he encountered each time made him growl with hunger.

Instinct told him it was time again. Time for food. It had been too long since the last time. His realm was shrinking fast, the only source of power this little human building. If he couldn't cross the boundaries to stay, he would dwindle and disappear into the vast nothingness that was his dimension. He would stop being a conscious being and be reduced to one of many. He needed this food.

With a growl only heard by others like himself he descended upon the humans' house.

 

* * *

 

"Isn't Peter home yet?"

Winston looked up as Egon Spengler came down the stairs, looking a bit tired but no more than any time he had been working twelve hours straight on an experiment and was prepared to add another six to finish it.

"Nope."

"It's ten p.m. now and he still hasn't returned. I'm worried." The blond physicist sat down in the armchair. Ray had paid him a quick visit in the lab to say he was home again, and he had also told him that Peter hadn't come to pick him up.

"Janine thinks that he was held up by a pretty girl. That would be Pete. I bet he invited her for out for dinner or something, and forgot all about Ray and calling us." Winston smiled. "He'll be home in the morning."

Egon nodded, but there was a worried frown on his forehead. Something didn't add up here. It wasn't like Peter to forget to pick someone up after he had promised to do so--especially one of his friends. And it wasn't like him not to call when he planned to stay out all night. He always left the number of the woman in question, just in case they had an urgent bust in the night and needed him. Trying not to worry he stood up again and went to the kitchen to get himself some coffee, his mind partly on his latest experiment again.

 

* * *

 

Peter didn't know how long he had been questioned about his father and his whereabouts. The voices were droning on, demanding information he couldn't possibly give.

 _I don't know_ , his mind screamed and his mouth formed the words.

But the voices didn't believe him. He felt another shot of the truth serum running through his veins and from one second to the next he imagined falling into a fathomless hole.

"Where is your father?" one of the voices asked. It was a cold voice, bare of emotion.

 _I don't know._

"When did you last see your father?"

 _Seven months ago. I don't know exactly._

"Where is he now?"

 _I don't know. I really don't know._

More questions followed, but the voices faded more and more. It was like somebody was pulling him away from where he was. Blackness enveloped him and the voices disappeared.

 

*

 

"He doesn't know a thing!" The blond man who had been injecting Peter with the truth serum looked frustrated. "I tried everything on him, but he doesn't know where his father is, damnit!"

Jean Lenard regarded the unconscious form of the dark-haired Ghostbuster dispassionately. Somehow he felt disappointed, too. How could a son not know where his father was? But it seemed to be the truth where this parent was concerned. He shouldn't be surprised.

"We have to take other measures, then, Eric," he said calmly.

Eric turned to face his boss. "Other measures? Which ones?"

"Exchange Dr. Venkman for his father."

"How can you do that if you don't even know where he is?" Eric asked sarcastically.

"We can't find him because he knows what he's hiding from, but maybe the Ghostbusters can determine his whereabouts." Lenard raised an eyebrow. "We'll just send them a letter, telling them if they want to see their colleague again, they have to deliver his father to us."

Eric didn't look convinced this plan would work, but he nodded nevertheless. Then he jerked his head at the Ghostbuster. "What about him?"

"We leave him here. He's out cold, bound and doesn't really know where he is. If he wakes up, he can't run, and I don't think he'll even be able to crawl." A cold smile played around Lenard's lips. "We won't even need him alive when we have his daddy."

Eric smiled, too, packing his bag and, after a last glance at his victim, left with his boss.

 

*

 

They were gone, leaving the food, but it was poisoned by what the humans called drugs. There were a lot of drugs coursing through the food's system and it wouldn't digest at all.

With an angered growl it settled back, waiting. In time, the drugs would be washed out by the food's own regenerative system.

It only had to wait.

It could be very patient.

 

* * *

 

Peter hadn't returned by morning and there wasn't a call on the answering machine. The three Ghostbusters ate breakfast in relative silence, each one contemplating what could have happened.

"Maybe he slept late in whosever bed he went to sleep last night," Winston said and tried a smile.

"He would have left at least a number on the answering machine," Egon said, his voice full of conviction. "He knows we need a number to reach him in case there's an emergency bust the three of us can't handle. And he would also have called to tell us he wasn't coming, or to excuse himself for not picking up Ray."

"Then where did he go if he didn't meet someone?" Ray wanted to know.

"I'll tell Janine to call every known friend and girl-friend of his," Winston offered and Spengler nodded.

"Good idea."

 

 

Two hours later they were no further than before. No one had seen or heard of Peter. He wasn't with a friend, a lady friend or at his usual hang-outs. Janine went even further and called the hospitals, but there wasn't a John Doe who fit Peter's description.

"Maybe we should call the police," Ray suggested, a worried frown on his forehead.

"And tell them he's missing?" Winston shook his head. "We have to wait for forty-eight hours to file a missing person report. They won't even take down a name before that time is up, believe me."

Ray sighed. "But we can't just wait for forty-eight hours!" he then said. "Something awful might have happened to Peter!"

"Yes, but the police have their laws and regulations. They'll tell us to go home." Spengler rubbed his eyes, trying to think of a way they could find Peter.

"I don't want to be rude, guys," Janine interrupted. "But you also have a full schedule for this afternoon."

Egon nodded. "Yes, we do."

"You want me to rearrange the busts?" the secretary wanted to know.

"No."

The other two looked at him in surprise. "You want to go out on busts while Peter's missing?" Ray asked, incredulous.

"Exactly. If I remember correctly, the busts are all over New York city. We'll take along a P.K.E. meter tuned in to Peter's biorhythms and take readings from every point we stop. This way we can help those people in need of our service and look for Peter at the same time."

"Good idea, m'man," Winston agreed.

Stantz sighed again. "Okay, but I don't feel good going out on busts while we don't know what happened to Peter."

"None of us does, Ray," Egon assured him. "But we have to do it."

"Let's go," Winston simply said and a few minutes later they were on their way.

 

*

 

By the time Egon, Ray and Winston returned home it was late in the afternoon. All the busts had taken longer than expected when Janine had made the appointments. They were one man short and it showed. Wearily the three men climbed out of the car. As they walked over to the reception area they noticed Janine was still there, though she had announced that she wanted to take the rest of the day off yesterday.

"Janine?" Egon asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to wait for you to get back. Any sign of Peter?"

The blond physicist shook his head wearily. "No. We didn't find a single trace of him with the meter."

"It's like he vanished," Winston added glumly.

"Did you hear anything?" Ray asked hopefully.

The secretary shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. But this arrived." She held a sealed envelope out to them and Egon took it.

"It arrived after you were gone," she explained. "By messenger."

"Messenger?" Zeddemore echoed. "What messenger?"

"Don't ask me. The guy gave me the creeps. He just popped up in front of my desk and gave me the letter. He didn't look like the normal messenger boy."

Spengler looked at the envelope, noticing the writing. 'The Ghostbusters', it said. 'Personally'. He opened it with one of the pencils and unfolded the paper. Suddenly he blanched, leaning back against the desk.

"Egon?" Winston called, worry in his voice.

The physicist simply held out the letter to his two friends. Winston took it and read it out aloud.

"To the Ghostbusters. We have your friend Dr. Venkman. If you ever want to see him again, find us Charles Venkman. We will contact you again tomorrow. You have twenty-four hours. No police." Winston's dark eyes were ablaze with anger. "What the hell kind of joke is that?"

"It isn't a joke," Ray whispered. "They kidnapped Peter. But why demand his father in return, and not money?"

"Maybe the old con man got himself into something really bad and now they're after him, taking Peter as a hostage to assure he'll come," Zeddemore said.

Egon was still pale, but looked composed. "We need to call the police," he whispered.

"But they said no police, Egon," Ray replied. "We can't go to the police. They'd find out."

"Maybe we can ask a friend with the police to keep an eye open," Egon said as if to himself.

"A friend?"

"Lt. Amanda Walker."

"The Lieutenant from Internal Affairs?" Janine's eyebrows rose.

Egon and Lt. Walker had had several dates in the past few months. Nothing serious, as Egon always assured them. The Ghostbuster had met the copper-haired woman about six months ago on a bust. She had met everyone of the team, but with Peter she hadn't started off on the best of terms. Now they had come to respect each other after some time.

"Yes. She knows people and she might be able to help us."

"Even if we inform her," Winston said slowly. "How can she find him? We don't even know who kidnapped him! And what about the time limit? We have twenty-four hours to find Charlie and we don't even know where he is!"

"One thing at a time," Spengler told him, sounding very calm, but didn't feel it. "First we talk to Amanda. She has to know. Maybe she can help us. Then we'll think about how to find Peter and his father."

The other two looked doubtful that the police could really help, but nodded.

"It's worth a try," Winston agreed. "As long as it's done undercover. The moment a full squadron of cops appears, the kidnappers will freak."

"Let's do it," Ray agreed.

Egon took the phone and dialed Amanda's number. A few seconds later she answered.

"Amanda, it's Egon. I need to talk to you in a very urgent and personal matter ........ yes, today, if it is possible .....? Yes, that would be fine. Could you meet us here at Central? ..... No, I can't explain ..... Thank you."

He put the receiver back in the cradle.

"She'll come by in about an hour."

Winston nodded. "Okay, that's a beginning. maybe she can really help us."

 

*

 

"Hello, Egon," Amanda Walker greeted her latest friend with a warm smile as she entered the firehouse.

"Hello, Amanda," the physicist returned the greeting, managing a smile, too. "Thank you for taking some time off to follow my request."

She smiled. "That's what being lieutenant means; you can take time off without much explanations as long as dispatch can reach you." She held up a beeper. "Okay, what's up with you wanting to see me urgently?"

"It's something of a personal request," Egon began. "But I think we should go upstairs."

The copper-haired woman just shrugged and followed him to the second floor.

"You remember Ray Stantz and Winston Zeddemore?"

The other two Ghostbusters stood and shook her hand, then all of them sat down on the couch and the armchairs.

She nodded. "Of course. I'm just missing Dr. Venkman."

"That's the personal request I was talking about," he told her carefully.

She raised both eyebrows, recognizing the hesitant and careful manner of speech. "Well? I hope you don't wanna ask me to date him?"

That drew a small smile from Ray and Winston, but Egon stayed serious.

"Peter is missing," the blond physicist said, coming straight to the heart of the matter.

"He didn't come home last night," Ray explained further. "He was supposed to meet me at the bus station, but he never arrived, and he didn't call or leave a message."

"Maybe Dr. Venkman met somebody interesting," Amanda suggested with a knowing smile. Though they hadn't hit off at first she knew the kind of person Peter Venkman tried to project. If Egon hadn't told her some very interesting facts about the psychologist she'd have categorized him as one of those men. But he wasn't.

"No." Egon shook his head. "He would have called." He said it with such conviction that Amanda had to smile despite the serious situation.

"We called all his girl-friends," Ray told the Internal Affairs Lieutenant. "And then we started with the hospitals. There's no-one matching Peter's description."

"So?" she asked, raising both eyebrows.

Egon inhaled deeply. "Today, while we were on some busts, this arrived." He handed over the letter. Her eyes flew over the writing and her jaw set in a determined line.

"That changes a lot, guys. Do you know where Charlie Venkman is right now?"

All three shook their heads. "No," Ray spoke up. "Most of the time Peter doesn't know where his Dad is and when he knows, he mostly wishes he didn't."

"His father is a con man," Egon added.

"Uh-huh. Why did you come to me, though it says 'no police'?"

"We want your help, but not that of the police," Spengler explained carefully. "We don't want to endanger Peter, but we won't be able to find Charlie Venkman if he doesn't want to be found."

The lieutenant frowned. "You want my help, but not that of the police. Do I understand correctly?"

They nodded.

"How do you think I can help you, if I can't use the men available? I need resources to find the kidnapper or Charlie Venkman, whoever comes first. But if this guy who is looking for Venkman couldn't find him, and if you have no idea how to get in touch with him, how do you think I can do the job without setting every police officer on his trail? You claim if he doesn't want to be found, you can't find him."

Egon sighed. "I thought you might have someone who could look for Peter--unofficially. I remember from our conversations that there are always special teams who look for missing persons without spelling 'police' all over. I'm asking for a favor, not police help."

Amanda Walker grinned. "You have a good memory, Egon. Yes, we have specially trained detectives who work undercover, and without back-up, most of the time. But all of them are on very important cases right now and I can't pull them off."

Ray's face, which had lit up at the mentioning of special help, fell.

"But," she went on, "I might have someone who can help you a bit. His name is Kyle Reese. He's one of the most eccentric cops I've ever worked with and was most recently transferred to my precinct." She smiled. "He's a world-class detective, but he's never been able to work well with a partner. We normally use his talents as a researcher for the more complicated cases, but he's got some good contacts you might be able to use."

"That would be great!" Ray said, looking much more hopeful.

"I'll call the precinct and find out where Reese is right now. He has to come here. If you visit the precinct and those kidnappers are watching you, Peter might be in even more trouble.

That sounded very reasonable and all three nodded.

"You got a phone up here?"

Winston stood and walked over to one of the extension lines, picking up the portable receiver and giving it to her. Amanda dialed the number of the precinct.

"This is Lt. Walker, Sergeant. Is Detective Reese in?" There was a moment of silence. "Thank you, Sergeant Kerry." She put one hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. "Reese is currently outside, but he'll page him." She returned her attention to the phone. After some minutes she said: "Detective Reese? Lt. Walker. I need you to come over to the following address," she gave the Ghostbusters' address, "yes, right away. Walker out."

She placed the receiver on the table.

"It'll take some time for him to drive over here. We just have to wait. Say, do you have a cup of coffee, guys?"

"If it's coffee you want, it's coffee you get," Zeddemore announced and went to the kitchen to start the coffee machine going.

 

 

About forty minutes later a blond man, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket arrived at Ghostbuster Central. Janine looked up from her work, pleasantly surprised by his appearance. He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with wavy, whitish blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He gave Janine a broad smile.

"Hello, beautiful lady. I'm looking for Lieutenant Walker."

"The Lieutenant is upstairs," Janine replied with a smile, admiring the view.

"Thanks."

She watched him disappear upstairs.

 

 

"Detective Reese," Amanda greeted the younger man. To Egon, Winston and Ray he didn't exactly look like a police officer, with the jeans-and-leather outfit. He also appeared to be too young to be a detective, as if he was fresh out of the academy.

"Lieutenant," he nodded at her and flashed a smile. "What shit am I in this time?"

Amanda grinned a bit, but donned her professional mask seconds later. "Detective Kyle Reese, Special Section" she introduced him. "Reese, these are the Ghostbusters."

Reese raised both eyebrows. "I thought there were four of you guys," he said as a greeting.

"That's exactly the point. Dr. Venkman has gone missing. Kidnapped."

"Uh-huh. And now you want me to find him? Lieutenant, I'm knee-deep in cases!"

"Now you're hip-deep in them, Reese, and this one is your latest." Amanda gave him a stern look. "As far as I remember, you've got only two cases right now, don't you?"

"Both take up a lot of time, ma'm."

"Now you have three cases which take up all your time," she countered. "Dr. Venkman has been kidnapped and they want to trade him for his father. The Ghostbusters have asked for unofficial help. The only people who know the police are involved are we two and the three of them, Reese. If so much as a blue uniform even seems to be involved Venkman dies."

"That's nothing new, but I can't do anything, Lieutenant!" the blond objected. " I'm on the Lenard case!"

"You can and you will, Detective Reese," Lt. Walker clarified, her voice leaving no room for objections. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, you do." Reese nodded and sighed. Then he turned to the Ghostbusters. "Now, if you want me to find him, I've to know what to look for and where. I want to know exactly what's been going on before he disappeared."

The Ghostbusters were only too happy to comply.

 

*

 

Kyle Reese was not exactly an overly-happy Detective as he went out to his car. Like he had told the lieutenant he was knee-deep in cases, well, two at least. One was about a known weapons dealer, the other some foreign hit man. And now he was looking for a kidnapped Ghostbuster! Geez! Why him?

"Maybe because she likes your butt," a voice whispered so close to him that he jumped involuntarily.

"It's more likely because she hates my butt," he said in a low, slightly angry voice, turning to the new arrival. "Where the hell have you been, hm? I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last coupla hours and couldn't find a trace!"

"Out."

"Oh, don't go into any lengthy explanations because of me, Rhye!" Reese knew that the anger he directed at his friend was borne out of the new case. Kidnapped persons weren't his métier anymore. The only reason why he had been assigned to this case were the 'special' contacts only he knew about.

Rhye grinned. "I found some interesting facts on the Lenard case," he then said.

That made Kyle listen up. "You did? What did you find?"

Rhye eased himself onto the passenger seat, his eyes glowing with what Kyle recognized as triumph. Reese was used to the malicious smile that accompanied the triumphant look and didn't react to it any more than with lifting an eyebrow. He started the car's engine and drove down the street.

"He's back in town. Flew in this morning from Boston."

"And?"

"And he's looking for a guy who pulled some money out of him without delivering the promised item in return."

"And?" Kyle asked impatiently.

"The guy's name is Venkman. Charles Venkman."

The police officer nearly stepped on the brakes. "What?!" he shouted.

"Yeah, right. Venkman as in 'The kidnapped Ghostbuster'. I think you gonna get some bonus points with the Lieutenant if you solve two cases in one." Rhye chuckled and it had a cold and unpleasant tone to it.

"How do you know I'm looking for this Venkman character?" Kyle demanded, angry again.

Rhye looked smug. "I know," he simply replied.

"Shit, I told you to keep outta my mind as long as I'm on duty. Remember the last time you sneaked in?" The blond man thumped the steering wheel furiously with one fist.

"Last time was different," Rhye objected. "And I didn't sneak in right now. I wasn't even close to your mind, Reese, but the moment you left the firehouse your aura was screaming as loud as a banshee."

The Detective sighed, trying forcefully to calm down. It wouldn't do to crash the car into a bus or a taxi because of his flaring temper.

"Okay, okay," he finally muttered. He knew he had been furious when he had left the Ghostbusters, and was just now calming down enough to control his aura. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. I lost them when they entered a dark area."

Reese shivered a bit. Dark areas weren't pleasant and even Rhye was reluctant to follow someone inside. He had had some encounters with dark areas himself and he wasn't wild about the idea of visiting another one.

"Where?" he wanted to know.

Rhye materialized a map, which only Reese could really see, and pointed at a spot with one finger. "There. It's really nothing you'd like to visit, Reese, believe me. I've been close enough to feel what's in there. Makes your skin crawl."

The Detective nodded. He knew the spot from some time ago. Then it had been a grey area, not dark. To darken it in such a short time meant a lot of power or a resident. He looked at his passenger.

"Is it a resident or a something powerful passing through?"

"My best guess is a resident. It feels like a stronghold." Rhye watched the passing streets and buildings. "It's bad," he added softly.

Kyle frowned. Rhye didn't usually make statements just like that. "How bad?" he wanted to know.

"Whatever controls this area is hungry. And it gets fed, but not on the usual stuff, and not regularly. I think it feeds on humans."

Reese shivered again, his hands tightening around the steering wheels. "A Shadow?" he then asked, keeping his eyes ont he street. It was a delicate question, one that might not be taken well.

"No," was the cold answer. "Not a Shadow."

The detective released a breath. Rhye hadn't reacted as touchy as he had expected. "That bad, huh?" he then muttered. Aloud he said: "Listen, I'll check on buildings owned by Lenard or his puppet companies. Maybe we can find a clue to where in the dark area Venkman is."

"Why should he kidnap a Ghostbuster to find the other Venkman?" Rhye asked, a bit puzzled, and changing the subject to something more pleasant than thinking about dark areas.

"I dunno. Charles Venkman is a con man, according to what I heard from the Ghostbusters. If he really sold something to Lenard, why isn't Lenard chasing him? And if he's really chasing him, why didn't he find him?" Kyle drove down a busy street and had to stop at a traffic light.

"I don't know. You're the Detective of this team, Reese. Right now, I've got some business to attend to." One dark eyebrow lifted and the mouth curled into a smile again.

The police officer nodded, not even asking what his friend was planning or what his business was. He was sure he didn't want to know. "No problemo. Do me a favor and keep an eye on the dark area, will ya? Do some scanning, but don't be too obvious. If the thing inside is really a resident, I don't want it to be angry enough to come after us, okay?"

Rhye grinned. "I'm a professional, Reese. Don't you forget that."

The detective snorted, an amused glint in his blue eyes. "Yeah, right. And don't go wandering in there. If we have to go in, we do it together."

Rhye nodded seriously. "Same goes for you. No stunts. I'd hate to have to explain to Cerry why she's missing a husband." Then he got out of the car and disappeared into the crowd of people on the sidewalk. No one gave him another glance. Reese drove on as the traffic light changed from red to green.

 

* * *

 

Peter was swimming in a grey nothingness. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing here, or for that matter how he had come here. His mind supplied him with pictures, but they weren't much help. His thoughts were too muddled to make sense of the pictures.

His hands started to hurt, just like his head. It was this sensation that told him he wasn't dreaming. You couldn't hurt in a dream, could you? With a moan he tried to move his hands, but encountered resistance. The pain doubled and he gasped a little bit. As the pain subsided again, he tried opening his eyes.

His vision was blurred and he was barely able to keep his eyelids from closing again. He didn't like what he saw, though it wasn't much. It was a dark place, scary as hell. Shadows hovered in faraway corners, and the walls and the floor moved. He closed his eyes again, fear spreading inside of him. Where was he?

His awareness dimmed slowly, though he fought against the oppressing blackness that seemed ready to swallow him. He didn't want to return to the blackness, he was afraid of it. But in the end he lost the fight, sliding back, unable to keep himself conscious any longer.

 

*

 

The air at Ghostbuster Central was thick with tension and fear. The three resident Ghostbusters and their secretary hovered around the phone, waiting for a call from the police or from the kidnappers. They couldn't do anything else.

Amanda had gone back to the precinct after Reese had left, telling them to call in when something happened. Ray and Winston had been out with the P.K.E. meters again, hoping against all hope they might be able to pick up Peter's biorhythms after all, but he seemed to have vanished. In the meantime Egon puzzled over this strange effect in his lab, while Janine guarded the phone, rescheduling all the unimportant busts at later dates.

"For the biorhythms not to be picked up by a long range scan, Peter has to be outside the city limits," Egon explained when Ray and Winston returned.

"Maybe we should drive over into New Jersey," Ray said, hazel eyes full of worry. He looked like he hadn't slept for days.

"We could, but there is no guarantee we'll find him." Spengler sighed. "But there is no other explanation for it."

"Maybe the scan bounces off something," Winston suggested, looking thoughtful.

"Possible. But I have never encountered a substance that is able to block the P.K.E. meter's readings."

"Hey, guys!" Janine's voice suddenly rang through the old fire house.

The three men looked at each other, then hurried downstairs. As they arrived on the first floor they discovered a visitor, someone they knew very well. The man was dressed in a garish orange and green jacket and brown trousers; he was carrying a battered looking suitcase, and there was a broad smile on his lips.

"Boys!" he called and if possible, the grin widened even further.

"Mr. Venkman?" Ray exclaimed, a shocked expression on his face.

Charles Venkman kept on grinning. "How are you boys today?" he asked jovially, looking around. "And where's Peter?"

Egon coughed, walking up to the smaller man. "I think we should go upstairs, Mr. Venkman," he said seriously.

The smile on Charlie's face faded. "What happened? Did something go wrong on a bust? Is my boy all right?"

"Upstairs," Egon repeated and the older Venkman followed him, leaving his suitcase with Janine. Winston and Ray followed them, too.

 

* * *

 

Jean Lenard drummed his fingers on the mahogany desk of his hotel room. When someone knocked at the door he rose and went over to open it. His blond bodyguard and right hand, Eric, entered.

"Well?" he asked.

"Venkman arrived. I saw him enter Ghostbuster Central some time ago. They haven't left yet."

A feral grin spread over Lenard's face. "I knew he'd show up someday. Now we don't have to wait for the Ghostbusters to find him. "

"What will we do now, Mr. Lenard?"

The weapons dealer leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "We'll send the Ghostbusters another letter, tell them where to meet for the exchange." His grey eyes met Eric's. "Deliver the letter now. Don't let yourself be seen, though."

Eric nodded and left again. Lenard smiled. This was going better than expected. Charlie Venkman would be served to him on a silver platter. Pay-back time.

 

* * *

 

"I never thought something like that would happen," Charlie Venkman whispered, shock registering deep inside of him.

Egon had just told him the whole story, leaving nothing out. Now he sat back, watching the other man. "Do you have any idea who might have done this?" he asked.

Venkman shook his head. "I just finished a deal in Boston," he said slowly, sounding like his tongue and lips were numb. "Nothing big. And then I flew down to visit my boy." He shrugged.

"What happened in Boston?" Spengler wanted to know.

"Nothing special. I met with a guy named Jean Lenard and sold him some artifacts for a few bucks. Nothing really special at all!"

"What artifacts?" Winston questioned. With Charlie Venkman, nothing was ever as it seemed.

"Oh, an old scroll I got from someone else. Mystical stuff, spells and so on."

Ray listened up. "A scroll with spells? What scroll?"

"Old Wicca stuff. The guy who sold it to me said it was an original and very powerful. He called it 'The Black Scroll'. Lenard is into all that mystical stuff and paid well for it." Venkman grinned at the thought of the money.

"How much?"

"Ten grand."

Winston whistled softly. "Ten thousand dollars? For a piece of paper that might or might not be the real thing?"

"The Black Scroll?" Ray echoed, his face whitening.

Venkman nodded. "That's what he said. Very rare scroll."

"It's not only very rare, but also very powerful. With something like that this Lenard could loose havoc on the world. But," the occultist frowned, "the Black Scroll was lost over 500 years ago. Everyone I know says it was destroyed, for the good of mankind. This one can't be real."

"But it is!" Charlie objected. "Well, at least the guy I bought it from said so."

"Who was this ominous salesman?" Winston asked with a glint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Morry Roberts."

"Morry Roberts?" Ray exclaimed. "He's one of the biggest fakes in the occult I know. He always tries to sell copies for the real stuff. I think you've been had with this scroll, Mr. Venkman."

The older Venkman looked aghast. Someone had really conned him! "Then I sold a worthless piece of paper to Lenard?" he echoed.

"Precisely," Egon said.

"Well," Charlie grinned. "Never been so good."

Spengler scowled. "And because of it Peter's in big trouble."

"We don't know it is Lenard," Winston explained.

"But he might be. We have to talk to Amanda."

That was the moment Janine called for them again. The four men trooped down the stairs once more and found themselves confronted with another visitor, this time a stranger. He one was tall, with thick black hair and blue eyes. The handsome face showed some hard angles and the lips were a bit too thin to make him the perfect image of every woman's dream. Egon frowned a bit as he looked at the stranger. He didn't know what it was, but something about the man bothered him a lot. Maybe it was the masklike expression which seemed to hide what lay underneath that perfect fascade.

"Guys, this is Mr. Ryan Masters. He says he wants to talk to you," Janine introduced him.

"I'm working with Kyle Reese," Masters explained, his voice softer than one would expect.

"I thought Detective Reese had no partner," Ray said, frowning just like Egon.

"I'm not working for the police," Masters told them. "I just work with Reese from time to time."

"Why are you here?" Winston wanted to know.

"Reese is in trouble." Masters looked a bit worried, but hid it well. "I gave him some information on where he might find your missing colleague and I think he did something rash."

"You know where Peter is?" Ray exclaimed. "Where is he? We have to go and get him!"

"Whoa, hold it, homeboy," Zeddemore held him back. He turned to Masters. "Where is Peter and what happened to Detective Reese?"

Masters looked indecisive. "Okay," he said after a second. "I heard that someone called Jean Lenard had kidnapped your friend to get to his father. He took him to a specific area, but I lost him there. Reese wanted to look for more information concerning the whereabouts of Lenard. He said he might find a house owned by one of Lenard's companies and this could be the place where your friend is. That was the last I heard of him."

"He didn't tell you where he went?" Egon asked calmly. He still puzzled over what made him suspicious around this man. Everytime he tried to look hard and close at the man, his shape seemed to shift and Egon's eyes automatically searched for something else to look at.

"No. I told him what I knew of Lenard and then we parted. He said to stay in contact, but when I looked for him, he was gone." Masters shrugged.

"And why do you think he's in trouble? Maybe he just decided to check something out."

Masters shook his head. "I would have found him if he were anywhere else but the area I told him about."

Spengler raised both eyebrows. Maybe now they were coming closer to the heart of the matter. "I think we should go upstairs and start all over again. This is getting very confusing."

There was a slightly panicky look in the stranger's eyes, which he quickly quelched. His eyes darted toward the stairs, then back to the Ghostbusters again. "Okay," he then said, though he didn't sound too enthusiastic, judging from his level voice.

"Egon," Janine spoke up.

The physicist turned to her and she held a letter out to him.

"This was delivered by some teenager. He said to give that to one of the Ghostbusters."

Spengler took the letter and looked at it. It held the same handwriting as the first one. A sick feeling spread in his stomach. He opened it.

"What is it, Egon?" Janine wanted to know. "Another letter from the kidnappers?"

He nodded slowly. "Let's go upstairs," he added.

When they were upstairs, Winston went over to the kitchen and got some coffee and cups. Charlie Venkman sat down in one of the armchairs, watching the stranger with worried suspicion, just like the others. He was unusually quiet, compared to his other visits to Ghostbuster Central; and it was understandable. Peter had been kidnapped because of him. He stood a good chance of getting hurt -- or worse.

"The letter says where to meet them. They apparently know you've arrived in New York, Mr. Venkman." He gave the older Venkman  a look. "They want the exchange to take place in a few hours."

"Where?" Winston wanted to know and Egon told him the address.

"That's pretty far outside the City," Ray remarked, his face a white mask.

Spengler nodded, folding the letter and then putting it on the table. He turned to their new visitor, visibly forcing all thoughts about the ultimatum aside.

"Now, Mr. Masters, why don't you start from the beginning with why you came here and what Detective Reese might have done," Egon suggested, trying to keep from looking away from the stranger. It was very hard. What was happening here?

Masters played with the coffee cup, visibly uncomfortable. The physicist just couldn't say what it was that made the man this nervous. The company? The story he was about to tell? Something else completely?

"I met with Reese to give him some news on his latest and biggest case. Incidentally it was connected with the assignment he had been given by Lieutenant Walker. I told him that the man he was looking for had just flown in and was looking for someone. I also told him that I lost the men when I tried to follow them. Reese said he'd check on the area and see whether the man he was after owned anything there. That's when I last heard of him. When I tried to contact him later, he was no-where to be found. That has me worried and I did all I could to find him -- with no success."

"This case Detective Reese was working on," Spengler said slowly, "does it have anything to do with Jean Lenard?" He had just remembered that Reese had mentioned something like it.

Masters's eyes widened a bit. "How do you know?"

"Detective Reese mentioned it," Spengler explained. "We never thought it might have a connection to our problem." He looked at Charlie Venkman, who seemed to shrink inward a bit. Masters followed them and frowned at the garishly dressed man.

"This man is Peter's father, Charles Venkman," Egon introduced him.

"You are Charles Venkman?" Masters was perplexed. "You're the guy who conned Jean Lenard into buying the Black Scroll?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" the older man protested. "I thought it was genuine!"

"Lenard seems to think otherwise. He's after you," Masters explained. "That's why he flew in from Boston himself this morning. I know that one of his goons arrived here earlier."

"And he kidnapped Peter," Winston concluded.

Masters nodded. "Possible."

"You know about the Black Scroll?" Ray asked then.

The stranger nodded, though cautiously. "Yes. I know of its existence and that Mr. Venkman here said he had the original Scroll and tried to sell it."

"The original Scroll was destroyed," the occultist explained, puzzled by Masters's words of 'its existence'. It sounded just like the Scroll was still in one piece and hidden somewhere. The look Masters gave him didn't do anything to disperse that sudden suspicion. The man didn't say anything else.

"Why didn't you go to the police and ask them for help?" Winston wanted to know. "Reese is a police officer. If he's in trouble, his colleagues are the best to help him, not us."

"Not this time," Masters said slowly.

Egon listened up. "What do you mean?"

"The area I told Reese about is not what I'd call normal. It's a dark area. It's .... haunted."

"What? How do you know?" Winston demanded.

"And what's a dark area?" Ray wanted to know.

"I can't explain that to you now. At least not in any words that would make sense. I just know that wherever Lenard took your friend, the area is not exactly friendly. And I'm not speaking of the living neighbors. There's something there." He chewed his lower lip. "Dark areas are what you call haunted places. Some are larger, some are smaller. You can't say exactly how big such an area is, because it's always changing ...... flowing."

"Who exactly are you, Mr. Masters?" Egon asked quietly. "You say you're one of Detective Reese's unofficial partners or helpers or whatever, but you can also detect paranormal presences, can't you? There is more to you than meets the eye." _If the eye would just stop slipping away from Masters it would be even better_ , Egon thought with dry humor.

"You're a psychic?" Ray asked, eyes wide.

"Sort of," Masters confessed, though it sounded like only half of the truth. "I can't explain it. All I ask is for your help to find my partner. I can show you where the area is. Maybe then you'd believe me."

"Wow!" Ray breathed excitedly. "A psychic!"

"What about the ultimatum?" Winston reminded them. "This Lenard is expecting us to deliver Mr. Venkman in exchange for Peter today."

"We have to find Peter before the time is up," Egon decided. He looked at Masters. "Can you show us the way?"

The man nodded. "Yes, of course. But I can't tell you where exactly in that area your friend is held. And I've to warn you; it's dangerous in there."

"We'll go in prepared and ready." Ray looked determined, then held up the P.K.E. meter. "This device is tuned in to Peter's biorhythms. If he's in that area, we can find him."

"But we couldn't find him before," Winston objected. "Why now?"

"If this area is really a haunted place, maybe it blocked everything we tried," Stantz theorized. "Maybe there is some kind of field around it, like a mirror, where the scan bounces off. We wouldn't be able to tell. "

"We should follow the same trail detective Reese did," Egon said. "We should look for a house owned by Mr. Lenard."

"Good idea. I'll tell Janine to get at it. Then I'll get the packs," Winston announced and went downstairs.

"I want to come along," Charlie Venkman now spoke up. "I'm responsible for that all and I want to help."

Ray nodded and looked at Egon. "I think we should let him come along, Egon."

Egon just nodded, too. Then he gestured Masters to follow him downstairs.

 

* * *

 

Peter woke a second time, this time from the strong feeling of coldness and a massive headache. He shivered, opening his eyes and staring into the semi-darkness all around him. He was still in his upright position on the chair, his hands bound behind him. They felt numb from partly-cut-off blood circulation and he was freezing. The house was a ruin, with no heating and broken windows. Overhead swung a broken chandelier, which must have been the pride of the room once; now the glass was broken and the golden color of the metal tarnished. The furniture he had seen before turned out to be solid wood, which had suffered from age and hard use. The pieces of carpet still visible told the same story as the wallpaper and the furniture: this house had once been an expensive and exquisite manor, now all the splendour was gone and forgotten.

He wondered where he was.

Images of the kidnapping came back to him and he remembered the man who had asked him so many questions. All of this had been because of his dad, he mused, feeling anger rise inside of him. But why? Why would someone kidnap him when they wanted his dad? Surely Charlie Venkman couldn't have vanished from Earth completely, or could he? And what had he done to anger the man that much? It must have been one heck of a scam, the psychologist decided, for someone to pull such a thing. Kidnapping, drugs, keeping him here--alone. His anger turned into fury. What the heck had his father done? Well, it would be nothing compared to what Peter would to to his father when he got out of this mess!

Peter suddenly frowned. Was he really alone? His muddled brain tried to think back. Had they left him? Were they still here? Only one way to find out.

"Hey!" he yelled. It was more of a croak because his throat felt dry.

There was no answer.

"Hey! Anybody here?"

Again nothing.

He glanced through the window to his left. It was getting pretty dark outside. A tree blocked most of his view, also blocking the light. Wood was creaking now and then and he thought he heard little feet scurrying above him.

 _Rats! Great! Just what I needed. I bet they have 'roaches here too._

He had to get out of here. Experimentally he tugged at his bonds, but they were too tight and his wrists too swollen to move them. _Damn!_ But his feet were free. With a small smile he leaned forward, resting his weight on his feet while raising his butt. He nearly lost his balance, feeling nausea wash over him. His head pounded viciously, reacting to the sudden change of perspective.

Gulping down the bile that rose in his throat he hobbled over to the wall. A vague plan had begun to form in his mind and he hoped the chair was as old and brittle as the rest of the house.

"Here goes," he muttered, close his eyes and then slammed the chair--and himself--against the wall.

The impact jarred his whole body and he cried out. But the wood splintered, much against his highest hopes. It didn't break completely, but it bend inward, making it possible for him to loosen the back of the chair and then slip free of it. Breathing heavily he leaned against the wall, trying to calm himself down and command his body to stop quivering. After some time he felt fit enough to move.

 _Okay, next step. You're free, now get out of here and search for help._

He made some staggering steps toward the door of his prison. Suddenly he stopped. The hair of his neck rose and he felt the familiar tingle of approaching danger. Approaching fast! His hands still tightly bound behind his back he turned, looking around the room. There was nothing there except shadows and dust -- and a golden glitter high in one corner.

Peter gulped, retreating fast. He didn't know what the glimmer was, but he also didn't plan on finding out anytime soon. A high-pitched whine echoed around the house, making his nerves shriek and his hair rise even further. He doubled back, connecting with the door's frame as he tried to get out of the room. He fell backward, sitting down hard on his behind. The dark-haired Ghostbuster rolled around to come up on his knees, willing his abused and drug-weakened body to go and keep moving. The whining continued and the golden glitter zeroed in on him.

"Aw, shit!" he hissed and heaved himself up, his legs shaking. He had to get out of here.

Gasping and panting he ran down the corridor of the house, frantically searching for an exit. He didn't know whether the apparition was bound to the house, but his mind told him outside was much better than inside.

The whining increased even further and the golden glitter came closer. Its light shone like a halo around him. There was no heat in the light, it was a cold, deadly fire. And then he tripped. He didn't know what his foot caught in, but he suddenly saw the floor rising to meet him and he didn't even have his hands to catch himself.

Peter hit the floor, hard, gasping for air as he slammed down, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Stars danced before his eyes, but none were as bright as those golden, glittering stars of the apparition above him. Still shrieking and whining, the golden light danced around him.

A voice came out of nowhere and it was definitely male. The words it spoke were like none Peter had ever heard before, but it seemed like the ghosts knew what they meant. Peter blinked, his eyes streaming with tears from the bright light. Then the light dimmed a bit, the shrieking taking on other tones, becoming angry. The voice continued to speak, powerful and unceasing. Peter didn't dare to move or speak himself, afraid whatever he did might work against whatever the stranger was trying to perform.

The glittery ghost retreated to one corner, cowering, but not disappearing. The whining became a moan, then an angry shriek.

Now Peter tried to look around, searching for the voice, the stranger who had helped him.

"Stay still," the male voice commanded, sounding strained.

Someone undid his bound hands and he rolled around, flexing his fingers, hissing in pain as the blood began to circulate freely again. Then he looked up, directly into-much-too bright blue eyes, framed by whitish blond hair in a suntanned face. Sweat glistened on the man's lean face and he appeared feverish.

"Who are you?" Peter asked hoarsely.

The unnaturally blue eyes blinked, their inner lights dimming a bit. That effect piqued Peter's curiosity still more, though he felt in no shape to pursue it aet.

"The name's Reese. Detective Kyle Reese. Can you walk?"

"I ... I think so," Venkman said. He tried to get up and that was the moment the shrieking began anew.

The cop, Reese, flinched violently and threw up his hands, weaving complicated patterns in the air and speaking some words in the tongue Peter had heard before. The golden glitter, which had begun to hurtle at the two men, stopped in mid air and bounced back as if from an invisible wall.

"What the hell ...?" Peter muttered, staring at the man.

"It won't last long," the blond said, sitting back on his haunches, puckering his brow. "Damn, I didn't anticipate that. He's quite strong."

"What did you do?" Peter asked.

"I wove a protection spell, Dr. Venkman. But it won't hold the resident back for long. All I can do is increase the shield I have surrounded us with every now and then to keep it away, make it think I'm stronger than it is and hope it will give up." He sighed. "But my hopes aren't very high. Because that thing is stronger than I am. I only hope it doesn't find out too soon."

"Then let's just walk away," Peter suggested. "We get out of here, call my friends and get this critter busted."

Reese's face broke into a wry smile. "I wish we could. I can't hold the spell around two moving persons. One, yes. Two, out of the question. Sorry."

Peter stared at the man, then at the golden apparition -- the resident, whatever that meant.

"Which means?"

"Which means we have to wait for back-up, hopefully your friends."

"My friends? What makes you think they can find us if we don't call them? I don't know where I am, but I think it's pretty remote, huh?"

"Correct. But I have a partner who just might get worried enough to do something as foolish as to call your friends for help when I'm nowhere to be found." Reese shrugged.

"Wow, just a second! Who are you exactly, or better: what are you? I know you said you're a cop, but a cop casting spells ...?" The Ghostbuster felt utterly confused. The things that had happened to him in the last few hours had been enough to confuse anyone. "And who's this partner of yours? And why is it foolish to ask my friends for help? And what spells are we talking about?"

The blond grinned. "One after the other, Dr. Venkman. First: I'm really a police detective, just like I told you. Special Squad. Your friends talked to my superior, Lt. Amanda Walker, and she assigned me to find you -- inofficially of course."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Long story," Reese said, sitting down cross-legged and brushing some blond strands out of his eyes. "But I'll try to make it short."

Peter got himself into a more comfortable position, too, keeping an eye on the cloud of gold, which was circling them like a hungry wolf, never coming too close because of the shields. "I'm listening," he encouraged.

"Okay, let's start with a brief explanation. I told you that I'm a police officer, working in the special forces department. I'm also a bit psi talented, which you've seen. I can hold this resident at bay, but it'll find a way to pass the protective shield sooner or later."

"Resident?"

"I call it a resident, you'd call it a ghost. This thing lives here and has done so for some time. Maybe it died here or came from another dimension, choosing this as its new home and playground, but that's not so important right now. What is important is that my partner will find us before I run out of spells."

As if to demonstrate, Reese wove another complicated pattern with his hands and Peter saw that the golden cloud, which had come closer, pulled back again.

"What I can do is self-taught, which might explain why I never got beyond shielding more than myself or another person, but not two together. My partner is what you'd call paranormal, Dr. Venkman," the officer continued his explanations. "It would be near to suicidal for him to go to your friends and ask them for help. If they find out what he is, they'll trap him."

"Hey," Peter protested. "We don't bust every ghost we meet, especially the helpful ones."

Kyle gave him a wry smile. "Rhye isn't just a ghost, he's a DeathShadow. The second your friends look him up in Tobin's they'll bust him, or maybe sooner. Depends on whether they recognize the name or not."

"DeathShadow?" Peter echoed. "Doesn't sound like something I'd want to meet."

Reese chuckled. "Believe me, you really wouldn't. Especially the way I met him," he added in a more somber voice.

Peter cocked an eyebrow, giving the man an encouraging look. Since they couldn't move or do anything else except wait, he'd be willing to listen to some stories -- if Reese wanted to talk. Kyle Reese looked at him, pondering the question whether or not to tell the dark-haired Ghostbuster about Rhye. Then he came to a decision.

"Rhye ..... well, he tried to kill me, to say it bluntly."

Peter stared at him in surprise. _What?_

Reese seemed to read his face correctly, because he grinned wryly. "I defeated him in a vicious battle, but not without a price." His face darkened a moment and he was silent. Peter waited patiently, knowing that any question now would be an excuse for the man to stop telling his story. "Rhye attacked me out of the blue; I never even had a warning. I knew someone had been following me the last few days before the attack, but I never thought it would be ... that. I fought for my life, and the possession of my body. That's all he initially wanted -- my body. I wasn't strong enough then and he beat me. I thought I'd die, but somehow Rhye decided to help me live after all. I never got a straight answer out of him on the 'why' or, for that matter, the 'how'. He never talks about it. Now he hangs around, helps me with cases from time to time. He pops up at my place sometimes. I don't really know why, just as I don't know much about him as a being. He's incredibly powerful and very dangerous, that I do know, but there are things even he's unwilling to do, like entering a dark area such as this."

Reese inhaled deeply, watching the golden ghost for a while. Peter digested the story, mulling it over in his mind. So his and Reese's survival depended on a dangerous, unknown entity, which might or might not have called the guys to find them. _Oh, goodie_ , he thought sourly.

"What if your friend Rhye hasn't called my friends?" he then asked the important question.

"Then," Kyle answered with a dark frown, "we're hip-deep in trouble, Dr. Venkman."

Peter had no difficulty believing that.

 

* * *

 

It hadn't gone exactly as he had planned it, Rhye mused as he followed the three men downstairs.

 _I should have stayed with my original plan to search for Kyle myself_ , he thought sourly as he watched the blond Ghostbuster give instructions to the red-haired secretary. _Then again, what chance do I have to find him? None. Exactly._

The trouble had started a few hours ago when he had tried to find his friend and had -- after a very thorough search -- found no trace of him. And he had searched everywhere, even called Kyle's wife Cerry to find out if she knew anything about his whereabouts. She had said no, sounding a bit worried. He had assured her that nothing was wrong -- yet. Even if Kyle was dead he would have been able to pick up a faint trace, but Reese was gone, like he had been swallowed by the very Earth. Rhye could think of only one reason why: he had entered the dark area.

 _Fool. Damned, mortal fool!_

Since he had been unwilling to enter the dark area himself and find Kyle, he had to try and coax someone else to do it for him. His first thought had been the Ghostbusters. They had an interest in this case, too, and he had hoped to relay some info and be gone.

 _Yeah, right. And here I am, waiting for them to get going. We're about to enter a dark area. Great! Just what I always wanted. My numero uno Christmas wish. What ever bit me to ask them for help, hm?_

If he left now they wouldn't go to the dark area, afraid it was a trap. If he entered the dark area, he might not get out again -- alive.

 _But I am already dead_ , he mused with dark humor. _What could possibly happen to me? The resident won't be able to kill me, eat me, or do anything else. What am I afraid of? Answer: loosing myself._

That was the greatest danger there was. Loosing himself in the dark area and becoming another resident. Temptation was always strong and if it weren't for his mortal, human anchor, he would have long since given in to that temptation. The negative energy, the pure evil coming from dark areas always reminded him of his life before his other life. The creature, the human, he had been before had been evil when he had been alive: He had had another name then, now he was only Rhye. 

Then something had happened; he had changed. Someone had shown him the other side of the coin. He had used the powers the evil gave him over others to fight the darker side. He had been feared and respected. He had been powerful, but none of it had prevented his untimely death. His body had been destroyed, violently, but his soul had lived on. Free of its controlling mind, the evil soul had soared and searched for power. He had become a DeathShadow.

And then he had met Kyle Reese, a brilliant beacon of pure white magic. A young body he needed, a living body he craved. He had simply acted. And he had failed.

 _Get your act together, damnit! Reminiscencing about the past won't help. It's Kyle's life we're trying to save, and that of the Ghostbuster._

"Okay, Egon," Janine Melnitz said, jerking Rhye out of his thoughts. "I'll call you on the mobile phone the second I have something. Be careful," she added and Spengler nodded.

"Let's go," he said.

The three Ghostbusters and Dr. Venkman's father walked over to their transportation, a white converted ambulance car. The stocky one, Ray Stantz, turned to Rhye.

"Are you coming, Mr. Masters?"

He nodded, knowing it was possibly Reese's and Venkman's only chance. "Yes," he then said aloud, getting in the car with them, taking a place in the back seat with Stantz.

Winston Zeddemore started the engine and rolled the car out of the firehall. When they were out on the street, Rhye concentrated, bringing up a mental map of the city to guide them. He had to envision his current position in lower Manhattan, then that of the dark area. They were far apart and it would take at least three hours to drive there. He gave Zeddemore instructions and the human complied.

Once again Rhye reached out with his mind to search for Reese, but all he got was frightening emptiness, an emptiness he hadn't felt since he and Kyle Reese had met years ago. It scared him more than he was ready to admit. Biting his lower lip he concentrated on the way to the dark area, avoiding any thought of his human friend. There would be time for that later.

 

* * *

 

Jean Lenard looked at his watch. Four more hours until the Ghostbusters either had to bring Charles Venkman to him or be presented with the dead body of their friend. Well, either way, Peter Venkman would die, he thought with a feral smile. And Charlie Venkman would follow his son a few minutes later, if he had his will. Nobody crossed Jean Lenard and got away with it.

"Eric." He turned to his right hand. "I think it's time we collect Dr. Venkman from the Manor, get him cleaned up and presentable, and then drive to the point of the exchange."

The blond nodded and disappeared, readying the car for the drive to the Manor.

The point of the exchange wasn't far from the place they were keeping the Ghostbuster in, so as not to loose valuable time. It was only a half an hour drive.

Lenard stood, brushing a wrinkle out of his suit, his gaze falling on the fake scroll Venkman senior had sold him. Not much longer and he could pay for the humiliation he had felt at the report that the scroll was a very, very good fake.

"The car's ready, Mr. Lenard." Eric's voice intruded on his plans of revenge. He looked up and then nodded.

A few minutes later the nondescript blue Ford Taurus was on its way to Jason Manor.

 

* * *

 

Kyle had to admit it had been a very dumb idea to start with. Rhye would comment that it was typically human and typically Reese; that he hadn't thought about his actions, simply charged head on into a dangerous situation. But Kyle had thought about what to do. Peter Venkman had disappeared in a dark area, out of their immediate reach, but not gone forever. He just had to find out where Venkman was, alarm the Ghostbusters and then let them take out the resident. Good plan. All Kyle had to do was find out which house Venkman was in. So he had driven over to the precinct, convinced one of the aides to leave her computer terminal unattended and take a coffee break, and had hacked into the files he wanted. Of course, he could have asked the aide to do it, but if this case became known, especially to one of Lenard's people, Venkman would be dead.

After a tiring search through dozens of files, he had found one house which had been sold to one of the many firms owned by Jean Lenard. The Jason Manor, an old ruin of a once noble residence, which stood far outside New York along the Hudson river and which had never been renovated as far as the file went. There was nothing else around it, only some wild woods. Since the house had been sold, nothing had happened to it. It looked like Lenard had only bought it to own it, or to use it for his dark plans. Maybe Venkman was there.

On a sudden whim, Kyle had keyed into the OccultNet, something he could do from the precinct's computer, since it had Internet access. He had entered the Jason Manor into the search program and had been rewarded with a flood of information -- not all of it good, as he had seen when he had skimmed over the pages. He printed everything, then he had written down the address of the Manor and had exited from the net, shutting down the program and erasing all of his tampering around. After he had been sure nobody could find out where he had been in the net, he had left the precinct, telling the dispatcher he was off duty.

He had driven to one of his favorite hang-outs, a small bar close to the precinct, and sat down at one of the many tables. After ordering some coffee he had begun to read what he had printed about Jason Manor.

 

 _"Oh, swell," he muttered as he read more and more about the house._

 _Jason Manor had belonged to a wealthy family, which had lost its fortune quicker than they had been able to compensate for it. They had to sell their home and land. The new owner had been a known practitioner of black magic and a devil-worshipper. Though it looked like he hadn't been able to do much evil, he had tampered with powers better left alone, as Kyle knew. The house had to be reeking of black magic. No wonder a resident had chosen it as its playground, and if he was correct, Lenard had taken Venkman to the manor, maybe left him there unguarded. A dry smile crossed the detective's lips. Even guarded, they wouldn't have a chance against a resident. It would need magic._

 _He sighed, pondering his options. He had an address. All he had to do was drive there and take a look around. Great. All he had to do, he thought wryly. It was a dark area, a dangerous place for everyone with psychic powers or a ghost. Residents were powerful beings that knew their territory and would defend it against everything that, in their eyes, could threaten it. Psychics belonged to that category, as Kyle had once found out the hard way. And if this resident had been attracted by black magic residues, it wasn't the most friendly one._

 _Calling Rhye would make no difference. He would refuse to go in there and search for Venkman. He had to go alone or call the Ghostbusters. He remembered his promise to Rhye. Of course he had the common sense to know this was a bit too big for him and he knew Rhye would skin him alive if he even considered the option of going into the dark area alone._

 _Kyle stood and walked over to the pay-phone beside the washrooms and dialed the Ghostbusters' number. The line was busy._

 _Damn._

 _He hung up, chewing his lower lip. He had to go into the dark area and try to help Peter Venkman. He would call the Ghostbusters over his cellphone on his way to the Manor. Maybe the line would be free for his call._

 _Decisions made, he paid for his coffee, smiled at the waitress and exited._

 

The drive over to the manor had been spent thinking about whether this was really such a great idea and trying to phone the Ghostbusters via his cellphone. The line had always been busy. Reese had cursed again and again, finally giving up as he had entered the driveway of the large house.

 

 _Jason Manor was in a disgraceful state. The driveway was covered with dead leaves, vines and weed. The garden was a real jungle of gnarled, old trees, leafless bushes and undefinable plants with spikes and thorns. The house itself, a large stone building with an impressive front, had seen better days. Plaster fell from the walls and the roof was missing some chunks. The windows were barred with wooden planks, but on the ground level, the planks had been torn away. Maybe someone seeking shelter or trying to find something worth stealing, Kyle thought as he stood beside his car, eyes traveling over the manor. Ivy was creeping up the walls, covering about two thirds of it._

 _It looked spooky, he decided. Not only the dead plants and trees in front of it led to that decision; it was the whole aura. A dark shadow lay over the house like a blanket. It was eerie, cold and completely devoid of life. Something was definitely wrong here, judging from the vibes he received, but he couldn't say what exactly._

 _Careful not to announce his presence, the detective stretched out a magic feeler, probing for the resident. It was here, faint, but still strong enough to let him know he was up against a really powerful being. He also felt the black magic radiating from the house. It was like a nexus point of power, collecting and storing it until someone tapped into it and drained a bit of the power away. Then it would start filling the emptied spaces; like a battery._

 _Kyle groaned, closing his eyes._

 _This was bad. Really bad._

 _But now he was here and couldn't go back. With a heartfelt sigh he walked up to the door and pushed at it with one hand. The wood creaked loudly as the door swung open. Someone had been here, Reese knew. Everything was barred, except the door, and judging from the stairs, which were littered with leaves and other stuff, except for a narrow pathway where someone had evidently stepped, the house had been visited recently._

 _He stepped inside._

 _The moment he was in the large front hall he felt the powers around him even more acutely as if he was walking through a sea of pure energy. It made the hair on his neck stand on end. The resident registered even more powerfully. It was active, he realized in horror. Shields flared up unwanted, a purely instinctive reaction, but nothing happened. No attack, no warning, no nothing. The resident was still here, still very active, but its target wasn't Kyle Reese._

 _A sick feeling spread through him._

 _Venkman!_

 _A loud noise of something breaking turned his attention to one of the three doors leading away from the entrance hall. There was a low curse, followed by stumbling footsteps._

 _The resident's power flared and Kyle reacted. He ran to the source of the noise coming from. A whining sound penetrated the whole building, making him clench his teeth in pain. He opened the door to the next room and was presented with two things. One was Peter Venkman, lying on the floor, hands bound behind his back, appearing dazed and half out of it. The other was the resident, a glittering cloud of gold._

 _He acted._

 _The spell came easily, blocking the hungry entity from its prey, sealing both men in a protective bubble of pure magic energy._

 _The resident cried in frustration, but didn't retreat. It tapped into the battery of black power around it and began its waiting game._

 

 

Now, after he had freed Venkman from the bonds and told him all about himself and how he had gotten here, Kyle settled back, straining to feel anything beside the all encompassing presence of the resident. He fervently hoped Rhye was searching for him. If he didn't, if he just waited patiently ..... They would be dead before nightfall, he knew. Holding up the shields was even more straining than he really let on.

Peter Venkman had settled back, too, closing his eyes a bit. He looked a chalky white, utterly tired and ready to slip away into sleep or unconsciousness at any minute. Kyle knew Lenard had given the Ghostbuster some drugs, as Venkman had told him all he remembered of what had happened. The drugs had damaged his system, making him weak and unsteady, an easy prey for the resident.

Another attack of the golden entity made him pull out of his thoughts and weave another spell of protection. The resident retreated. More and more, Kyle got the impression that the entity was playing with them, testing his strengths and weaknesses, the way a caged animal would test its cage for a weak spot and then charge. Not a very nice prospect, he thought. Sooner or later the resident would find a weak spot, and then .....

Peter Venkman, who had drifted off into an exhausted doze, jerked awake. "Wha .....?" His eyes fixed on the resident, then traveled over to Reese.

Kyle gave him an encouraging smile.

"What time is it?" the Ghostbuster wanted to know, looking cruelly tired, with huge shadows under his green eyes.

The Detective glanced at his watch. "About nine in the evening."

Peter settled back again, eyeing the ghost nervously. "I wish I had my proton pack and a trap. Then we'd be out of here in no time." He turned to his protector. "Wishful thinking, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so." Kyle chewed on his lower lip, trying to think of a plan. They couldn't move without disturbing the shield. Maybe they could move in little steps and he could adjust the shields now and then. But if he let even a tiny gap open, the resident would strike. If he shattered the shield, Kyle would be unable to strike back fast enough to save their lives.

An idea settled in his mind.

A radical idea.

One that would most likely mean he would wind up dead.

"How steady are you on your feet?" he asked Venkman, who gave him a startled look.

"Huh?"

"This room is right next to the entrance hall. You could make it out of this house quite quickly if you hurried, but are you able to hurry?"

The Ghostbuster gave him a blank look. "I thought you said we couldn't move!"

"I said 'we', correct, but right now I'm talking of you and you alone, Dr. Venkman."

The dark-haired man stared at him for some time, realization dawning in his green eyes.

"That's crazy," he finally blurted.

"No, it's the only way. I told you I can shield two unmoving persons or one person, if said person is moving. The shield would be small enough. I just can't adjust a large shield to motion."

"But if you lower the shield around yourself, the ghost will attack you!" Venkman said intently.

"Maybe. But I'm the one adept in magic, remember? I can stand a chance." _Though it's probably a very small chance and I will go down after a quick and ugly battle. But I'll go down kicking and screaming._

Kyle had thought about that fact for some time, but he saw no other way. And he was a police officer. His duty was to protect people--with everything at his command. If it meant magical battles with otherworldly creatures--okay.

"We'll start this whole operation by moving over to the door inch by inch," he told the still shocked Venkman. "I'll compensate as well as I can. If I tell you to run, you do just that. No turning back, no stopping, no stunts, until you are out of the manor. Understood?"

Peter looked like he wanted to protest again, but Kyle held up a warning hand.

"Understood?" he repeated sternly.

The other man nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, then let's do it."

With a last glance at the resident, Kyle began to move slightly, then motioned Peter to follow, adjusting the shield all the while. The resident saw what they were doing, howled, and attacked. As before, it bounced off the shield, but Kyle felt the impact and flinched, powering up his defenses.

Approaching to the door was a painfully slow process. It took a long time and Reese's strength and magical power dwindled. Finally he stopped, only a few feet away from the door, which was partially open. His face was glistening with sweat and his breathing sounded labored.

"Detective Reese?" That was Venkman. His voice was full of worry.

"I'm .... fine," Kyle whispered. "Get ready."

Peter eyed him with doubt, but prepared to bolt to the door. Well, maybe not bolt, but try to stumble as fast as he could. Kyle Reese inhaled deeply, concentrating on his magic inside, a brilliant core of light. His lips became a thin line and he let the power flow.

"Now!" he ordered.

Peter Venkman was a wobbly, shadowy point of greyish light to him as he tried to make a run for the entrance of the house, shielded by multiple layers of bright colors. The resident was a patch of utter darkness, though its bodily appearance was that of a golden cloud. Now it zeroed in on Venkman, only to be repelled by the shield. Kyle poured more power into the moving shield, constantly adjusting it to Venkman's motions, just as he would subconsciously do if it was his own shield.

The resident cried in frustration, then turned, suddenly aware that one of the two humans was still here, completely unprotected.

Kyle couldn't move. If he did, he would shatter his concentration and would condemn both of them to die. But he could defend himself with the meager resources left to him, for everything else was still pouring into the shield around the Ghostbuster.

Venkman was out of the room, running for the door.

The resident attacked Reese. Kyle flung a lightning bolt at him, but that only made him angrier.

Peter Venkman had crossed half of the entrance hall.

Kyle felt the first brush with the dark powers of the resident as it evaded his attacks. He cried in pain.

The Ghostbuster had reached the door and -- hesitated.

"GO!" Kyle yelled and shoved him outside, using the power of the shield to force the man bodily outside of the manor.

The resident hissed and roared, then surged forward again.

Kyle opened his eyes, seeing the incoming golden being, but unable to move or shield himself. He had used up all his powers to help Peter. He was dried out. With a grim smile he accepted his fate.

 

* * *

 

"That's it?" Ray looked through the window, seeing nothing but a few faraway houses and a lot of empty land stretching to both sides of Ecto-1. "That's a dark area?"

Masters nodded, his eyes shadowed and worried. To Egon's scrutinizing look he appeared jumpy and uncomfortable. Something was wrong with this man; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Yes, it is."

Ray looked somewhat disappointed. Egon just pulled out his P.K.E. meter and switched it on, frowning as he read the results.

"Gentlemen," he said after some intense study of the readings. "I think we're in trouble."

"I don't like the sound of that," Winston moaned and looked at the blond physicist. "What's 'trouble' in your definition, Egon?"

Ray leaned forward, trying to catch a glance of the screen of the detection device. When he saw the readings, his eyes widened considerably. "Oh, wow!" he breathed in excitement, all prior disappointment forgotten. "That's incredible! A dimensional breach!"

"That's trouble!" Zeddemore agreed heartily.

"What's a dimensional breach, boys?" Charlie Venkman spoke up.

"Something or someone opened a way to another dimension, presumably a long time ago, judging from the excessive power read-outs. The breach is like an unstable gateway between dimensions, allowing Netherworld entities access to our world," Egon explained, fiddling with the device and extracting a protesting whine. He quickly changed some more settings.

"And that's bad?" Venkman asked.

"It's very bad. This breach pours out energy and if there's some kind of collector for that energy, we'll be going up against something very powerful." Spengler glanced at Masters, who simply stared out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

"Can we close the breach?" Winston wanted to know.

"First we have to find out how strong and how big it is. If its fixed to a certain point, we'll have some trouble getting it to close without a lot of power. If it's still flexible, we can most certainly do the job." Egon didn't sound too hopeful of finding a flexible breach.

"Now where?" Winston wanted to know, stopping the car at a junction. He, too, looked at Masters.

Masters shrugged. "I don't know. I told you I can't feel Kyle Reese in a dark area." His voice sounded hollow and lost, as if part of him wasn't really here.

As if that was the magic word, the phone rang. Egon picked it up. It was Janine. After a brief conversation and a hearty thanks he hung up.

"Janine found an address. It's an old and abandoned house, the Jason Manor." He gave Winston the correct address and the black man drove to the left.

They arrived at the manor half an hour later, driving through a monstrous iron gate, passing passing what appeared to be two large Greek statues, and parked the car outside. As all of the men got out, Egon noticed how Masters shivered elaborately, his eyes clouding even further.

"Gee, wow!" Ray breathed as he stared at the building. Leaves littered the driveway, stirring in the wind.

Egon had to admit it was an impressive structure. The manor had three stories, imposing and -- gloomy. It appeared to be out of Victorian times, though someone must have re-built the east wing later since the styles clashed a bit. Gargoyles were perched on roof and just above the wide entrance door. A feeling of melancholy, solitude and loneliness spread from the house, making it an impenetrable, sad fortress instead of a building where once people had lived and died. The vastness of the garden around it didn't help to brighten the scenery.

"You think my boy's in here?" Charles Venkman asked. He had spent the whole trip brooding silently in the back of Ecto, looking worried. Egon believed the older Venkman was worried. This wasn't something to be taken lightly. Peter had been kidnapped because of something his father had done. If put it like that, it was Charlie Venkman's fault.

"We don't know yet," the blond physicist said slowly.

"Anything on the meter, Ray?" Winston asked, pulling his gaze from the incredible building, and trying to look at the P.K.E. meter Ray held out in front of him, studying the readings.

"Strange," Stantz muttered, adjusting yet one more dial. The device screeched and went up in smoke. "Yikes!" Ray sucked at his burned fingers.

Egon picked up the burned meter from the floor and studied the last reading. His eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "Fascinating."

"What?" Winston wanted to know.

"We found the breach."

"Where?"

The blond physicist pointed at the house.

"In the house?"

Spengler shook his head. "The house," he corrected.

" _The whole building_?" Zeddemore asked in disbelief.

Both scientists nodded.

"That's not good, huh?" Winston didn't really want an answer. It was bound to be bad.

"Yes. Apparently the breach has found a focal point: the house. The house itself is the breach." Egon frowned. "Which means we might be entering another dimension when we enter the house. Or we might step into a room and find ourselves in a completely different world."

Charlie Venkman stared at him in astonishment. "But it's still here," he objected. "We can see it. It can't be in another dimension!"

"The outside is still here," Ray corrected Peter's father. "We might find ourselves somewhere else when we step inside. What Egon is trying to say is that the breach is enveloping the house, maybe changing part of it so it becomes the other dimension."

"In other words: be damned careful where you step," the black Ghostbuster muttered darkly. "Love it. Any more good news?"

"There's a definite reading of a class-7 here," Ray explained, seemingly totally oblivious to Winston's rapidly darkening facial expression. "A very strong class-7. But then there are readings overlaying those of the class-7. I can't make out what they are or what they mean."

"Maybe there is something in 'Tobin's'," Egon suddenly said and pulled out the computer version of the Guide. He punched some keys, then waited for the program to find what it was searching for.

"Well?" Winston asked when all Egon said was 'Hm'.

"Jason Manor was once owned by devil-worshippers and practitioners of black magic," Spengler explained. "There are some reports about strange happenings around here and some people even said that they were visited by evil spirits."

"Uh-oh," Zeddemore muttered.

"But we don't read any black magic," Ray said, frowning.

"This could be because of the energy pouring through the breach. I theorize that the breach appeared because too much black magic was stored here." The physicist looked at the mansion. "I just wonder why we never heard of it before. This much power so close to New York City should have registered somewhere."

Ray shrugged, unable to explain that phenomenon either. They'd have to research that when they were back home.

An angry howl echoed through the Manor. The five men looked up and Winston expected some mad specter to fly at them at any minute. Nothing like that happened. Instead a brilliant light illuminated the ground level window to the right side.

"No!"

Egon turned as the moan of denial came from Masters's lips. The man, who had been quiet so far, stood staring at the house, his face white, his eyes two blue burning orbs. Just looking at him made the physicist feel queasy and threatened.

That was the moment the door burst open. A man in dirty and tattered clothes stumbled out as if all the hounds of hell were after him. His feet caught on something and he tumbled down the stairs.

"Peter!" Ray cried and before anyone could hold him back he ran over to his friend, followed by the others. They gathered around their friend, worry displayed on their faces. Egon kept an eye on the meter, which was registering nothing but the breach now.

"Peter, my boy!" Charlie breathed as he knelt down beside his son, gently touching his arm.

Peter appeared completely exhausted, his skin clammy and pasty white, his breathing labored. "Guys!" he gasped in a near whisper. "You made it!"

His father smiled broadly. "Of course they made it!" he proclaimed, though his cheery nature couldn't hide the fear written plainly on his features.

Ray fussed over his hurt friend, reassuring himself that the abrasions and cuts were only abrasions and cuts, nothing too serious.

"I'm fine," Peter said weakly and smiled at the other man. "Really."

"Of course," Winston remarked dryly, inspecting the chafed skin on Peter's wrists. Peter winced slightly.

"Peter, what happened?" Egon wanted to know, glancing at the manor, which rose like a stony monster above them. If possible, it looked even more unreal and spooky now.

Before Peter could answer a cry echoed from inside the building and Peter turned abruptly, his face whitening even more, if at all possible.

"Oh, no!"

"What ....?" Ray began.

" _Kyle!_ " Masters's cry was one of pure fear and concern and before anyone could stop him, he was up the stairs and had disappeared inside the manor.

"Mr. Masters!" Ray yelled, taking his own first steps up the stairs, but was held back by Winston's strong grip.

"Whoa, there, homeboy! Don't go running off into danger without us!"

"Peter, can you tell us what is going on here?" Egon demanded, focusing his attention on the psychologist. If anybody could possibly tell what the inside was like, it was Peter, who had just left the manor.

Peter gave them a brief explanation of what had happened and what Kyle Reese had done. Ray gave some surprised exclamations at the mention of magic shields and defenses, looking at the suddenly quite house every now and then.

"If this ghost is really so strong, we have to be careful," he finally said. "It's reading as a class-7, but it could be something entirely different. Especially if it is from another dimension and now more or less on home soil."

"Speaking of another dimension," Winston interjected, addressing the supine Ghostbuster. "Did you notice anything odd in there? A breach?"

Peter frowned. "No," he said after thinking it over. "It looks like the old ruin it is inside. Why?"

Ray explained quickly Egon's theory and Peter, if possible, blanched even more. "Another dimension?" he echoed, his voice rising. "I've been in another dimension?"

"Maybe," Egon corrected him calmly. "Part of this house belongs to the dimension the breach has occurred in. Some parts might still be here in this world."

"Guys, we have to do something. Mr. Masters is in there and Detective Reese, too. They might be in a whole lot of trouble," Winston put in. "It's been awfully quiet the last few minutes."

Egon nodded. "Yes, they will definitely be in a whole lot of trouble, though I'm not sure whether Mr. Masters won't prove to be a whole lot of trouble for the ghost itself, too."

The others stared at him in incomprehension; all except Peter.

"Peter mentioned Detective Reese's ghostly partner Rhye," the physicist explained his conclusions. "I think we have met him under the name of Masters."

"He's a ghost?" Ray exclaimed, eyes full of eager enthusiasm. "Wow!"

"But why didn't we pick him up on our scanners?" Winston want to know.

"I don't know," Spengler confessed, puzzled himself. Then he turned to Peter. "Did Reese say anything about what Rhye really is?"

Peter nodded. "He mentioned something like a DeathShadow once."

Egon's eyes widened, as did Ray's.

"A DeathShadow?" the occultist asked. "Geez!"

"What's a DeathShadow, guys?" Winston wanted to know, not liking the sound of it.

"Something out of myths," Ray said, wonder in his voice. "DeathShadows aren't really classic ghosts, which might account for us not reading him when we had our meters switched on. I read about them in 'Tobin's' once, but it said that there aren't many of them. They are very powerful beings, partly ghosts, partly demons, partly something not yet defined."

"I don't like the sound of that," Winston muttered.

"DeathShadows are known for their ruthlessness concerning territory and fights over power," Egon explained. "It is theorized that they are the shadows of someone purely evil, who died very violently. When such shadows are gathered in a place of dark powers by a ruthless person they become DeathShadows. Since these beings require an anchor to the world they exist in, most of them fade out of existence shortly after they have been deprived of their power source. They mostly kill the summoner and then the followers."

"You're saying that Mr. Masters, who asked as us for help to find his partner and who has just now disappeared inside a haunted house, is nothing else but a very dangerous, purely evil creature?" Zeddemore clarified.

"Yes. I wonder what made such a being come here, especially to us. As you might recall, gentlemen," Egon told all of them, "Rhye or Masters came to us and asked for our help to find his partner."

"Yeah, and he was genuinely worried," Ray added.

"Worried or not, he's dangerous. And he's powerful." Winston shook his head. "And now he's inside the house, which supplies a lot of power, if I understood you correctly."

"Reese said something about a fight between the two of them," Peter put in from his still supine position. "He said he defeated Rhye, but was mortally wounded himself--and Rhye saved his life."

"Intriguing," Spengler muttered, frowning deeply in wonder and consideration.

"It would be even more intriguing to know if that guy is on our side or not," Winston muttered uneasily.

Something like a low rumble echoed through the house, making the men aware that their problem was still there.

"We have to help them," Ray decided, unsnapping his thrower. "Even if this Rhye is a powerful entity, I don't think he can hold off the class-7 for long and protect his friend."

The other two Ghostbusters nodded. Egon turned to Charlie Venkman. "You stay here with Peter, Mr. Venkman."

Peter wanted to protest, but a look from Egon silenced him. He merely settled back against his father's caring hold. "Good luck, guys," he said softly as they entered the house.

 

* * *

 

Rhye had reacted without thinking, something he always lamented about Reese doing. But the cry of pain, combined with the overall feeling of danger and fear, had made him act irrationally, just like on that day when he had decided to safe the human who had defeated him.

Now he stood in the entrance hall, aware of the dark power all around him, aware of the resident, and acutely aware of the dwindling life energy of Kyle Reese. The moment the Ghostbusters had entered the premises of the Jason Manor, Rhye had felt the power levels in the house, had identified them as black magic and white magic. The white magic had been constant at first, pouring out of the blackness like a beacon, then it had dwindled rapidly, flashing on and off, moving a bit now and then. The second Peter Venkman had left the house, shielded by Kyle's magic, Rhye had known what had happened. The pain-filled cry of the human detective had only affirmed his plan of action.

He had gone inside.

The powers of the other dimension swamped him, drowning out all other sensations. It was an alluring kind of power, sweet and promising. He felt tempted.

Rhye knew the resident was very well aware of him, as he was aware of it. It let go of its human pray, circling the much tastier meal Rhye presented, hungry growls emerging from the golden cloud that was the resident itself. If it was aware of the kind of entity Rhye represented, it didn't show it. Most Netherworld entities tried not to come in contact with DeathShadows, since there was always the danger that they might end up as their dinner.

Rhye moved carefully deeper into the house, never letting his eyes wander from the resident. It didn't dare attack yet, not knowing what danger Rhye might present; watching and waiting.

He found Kyle in the room right of the entrance hall. The mage-detective had slumped over, lying like the dead on the floor. His skin was a chalky white, covered with sweat and dirt. Rhye felt something inside of him twist as he took in the sight of his friend. It took all of his will-power not to fling out a bolt of angry power at the resident. This scene was too close to the one he had witnessed years ago; with just one difference: this time it wasn't he who had nearly killed Kyle, this time it was the resident.

 _Keep your act together_ , he told himself. _Anything you do to provoke it might cost Kyle or the others their lives. Keep calm. Center._

He knelt down beside his human partner, stretching out one careful hand. The cloak moved with him, falling over his shoulder. Cloak? To his surprise he noted that he no longer held his previous appearance. He had unconsciously switched back to his natural shape. Not a good sign.

Kyle Reese was completely exhausted, his magical energy completely depleted, his life energy a weak flicker of light. His skin was cold and clammy, his breathing shallow and painful. He had to get out of here.

"Kyle?"

The mage-detective twitched, half-aware that someone was with him. Rhye reached out with his mind, touched the weak light of life and poured some of his own energy in it. First, Kyle recoiled from the touch, whimpering. Rhye felt his throat tighten. Again he was reminded of their first encounter; of the same situation......

 _Kyle?_ he asked telepathically. _It's me, Rhye ...... you know me. Don't shut me out. I'm your friend._ After a few seconds the human mage relaxed a bit. _Hold on_ , Rhye told him softly. Then he stood, facing the still circling resident. The creature hissed hungrily.

 _Okay, so it comes down to a fight_ , Rhye thought unhappily. He hadn't had a real magical battle for a long time; the last one being with a human being, namely Kyle Reese. It had been one he had lost. He wasn't very optimistic about the this one.

Part of him was aware of the Ghostbusters entering the house, but he concentrated on the battle he was about to engage in.

"Okay," he muttered. "Here goes nothing."

 

* * *

 

The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. A large staircase led from a huge entrance hall to the second floor. An old tapestry hung just opposite the entrance, its colors faded. There were doors leading further into the manor on the left and on the right side, some of them clinging to their hinges, others completely shut. A massive chandelier hovered above their heads, and as they looked up, they saw a kind of gallery running around the front hall.

"Gosh, that's incredible," Ray whispered.

If any of them had expected to find twisted shapes or crazy, unnatural angles in the entrance hall, they were disappointed. All looked normal. No signs of another dimension anywhere but on the P.K.E. meter.

"Yeah, man. But it's not my favorite place to live in," Winston spoke up, keeping his voice low, but it still echoed in the room.

"Powerful reading from the right," Ray said as he made a sweep with the meter. "It's the class-7, but its readings are fluctuating wildly, as if it's drawing power from somewhere to get stronger." He frowned. "And I'm also reading something I've never seen before."

"What is it, homeboy?" Winston wanted to know, standing a little bit aside from Ray, thrower ready.

"It's something very powerful, too, but I can't classify it anywhere. It's like a completely new ghost." Ray's eyes lit up with the prospect of discovering an until now never-before-seen apparition. He made another sweep while Egon took out his own P.K. E. meter. He concentrated on it, then made a sound like 'Hmmm'.

"Well?" Winston wanted to know, keeping an eye out for anything spooky. Then again, the whole house was spooky.

"There are dimensional breaches, mostly on the second floor. Nothing I can read down here. I suspect the center of the breach is somewhere upstairs." Spengler pointed up the stone staircase, which split into two halves after the first ten steps, one part leading up the right, the other to the left.

A bellow of rage came from one of the rooms on the ground floor and flashes of light emanated through the half-closed door. Egon straightened his glasses.

"Gentlemen, I think we have a job to do," he said calmly.

The other two nodded and advanced carefully on the room. As they reached the heavy wooden door, which was richly ornamented with carvings of medieval scenes, Ray opened it carefully by using his thrower to tip it open.

"Oh, man!" Winston muttered and gaped at the scene.

Masters or Rhye, whatever his name was, stood over the motionless body of Kyle Reese. Well, he thought it was Masters, although the creature resembled something only remotely humane. He was about six feet tall, with brightly glowing, metallic silver eyes. A pitch-black cloak flowed all around him, making it impossible to get a clear look. The cloak seemed to be a creature with a life of its own, fluttering and snapping in the magical winds. A broad-rimmed hat topped his head, hiding his face in even darker shadows, and a blood red scarf hid the rest of the face; his hands were spread out, like warding off an attacker. Whatever the DeathShadow had been before this life, Zeddemore guessed it had been human once. The black creature was attacked by a golden cloud of glittery stuff, which shot lightning at it or tried to swipe at the thing with long tendrils.

"Egon?" the black Ghostbuster asked nervously, needing a guide to what to do now.

All of them could see that whatever that black thing was, Rhye or something else, it was on the losing side. Rhye couldn't move away from Reese, lest he fall prey to the golden light. And Zeddemore also noticed the slim sliver of silver light around the two unlikely partners. It appeared like a protective shield or something. Egon was immersed in the readings he was able to get with his P.K.E. meter. When Winston asked him again, he looked up.

"It seems like this golden ghost, the resident, as Peter said Detective Reese called it, came from the other dimension. It is nurtured by all the negative energy around here and it looks like it's still bound to its own dimension," he finally explained what he read.

"So if we close the rip, the ghost will disappear with it," Ray concluded, a smile appearing on his face."

"Possibly," Egon confessed. "It might well seal the ghost here, without any back-up from its home dimension. Then we might be able to trap it."

"Too many 'mights' for my liking," Zeddemore muttered.

"Then again," Spengler went on, "if we try to close the breach with us still inside, we might not be able to get out fast enough. My theory is that the moment we seal or try to seal the breach, the dimensional changes in this house will retract, pulling whatever solid object they attract with them."

The other two regarded him in silence, both digesting the news.

"So, what do we do now, guys?" Zeddemore finally wanted to know.

Egon glanced at the battle at hand. It looked like it was stalemate right now, with the golden ghost attacking and Rhye fending him off.

"We have to find the location of the first breach in the dimensions," he told his attentive colleagues. "The P.K.E. meter should be able to pick it up fairly fast." He gave them the settings. "We have to find it, seal it or start to seal it. Then we'll see if the ghosts goes with it or stays."

The other two nodded.

"You said the strongest readings come from the second floor, Egon," Ray said. "Winston and I will take a look around."

The physicist nodded. "Yes. I'll scan the remaining lower floors. I don't think there is anything down here, except for the resident and Rhye."

They fanned out. Time wasn't on their side. If Rhye lost, the ghost would come hunting for them next. Not a good outlook.

Winston and Ray took the second floor, eyes on the meter for any sign of the breach. Every time Zeddemore opened a door to peek inside a room he was careful not to step in before he was sure it was a real room he was entering, not some twisted shape out of another dimension; and there was more than one time he was glad he had been so careful. The first room he checked was a storage cabinet full of spiderwebs with all the spiders still inhabiting it, and some broken things on the floor. Like all the rooms even this cabinet had a richly ornamented door, sporting medieval scenes carved into old wood.

The next room had once been a bathroom--until another dimension had struck. The bathtub was a misshapen bulk of metal, though you could still see it had once been very expensive, with greenish pink stuff growing out of it. The toilet was gone and the shower head sported eyes. Winston closed the door with a snap.

"Well?" Ray asked.

"You don't wanna know, buddy. Let's take the next one." Winston walked carefully over to the next door.

This room was a large empty nothingness with something orange glowing deep inside the darkness. Ray held the P.K.E. meter out to measure the P.K. energy. The needle on the meter rose several inches and the small arms extended, the little lights blinking wildly.

"Winston, look it's ...."

Ray didn't get any further because Zeddemore yanked him back from the door, both of them nearly toppling to the ground.

"What?" the occultist wanted to know.

The other Ghostbuster simply pointed at the door and Ray's eyes grew as big as saucers as he saw what had once been a dark room with a glowing light. Now it was a large row of teeth with a glowing orange tongue, which was licking at them. A growl emerged from the large snout of teeth. Then the door slammed shut, leaving the two in a semi-dark corridor.

"Oh, man!" Winston breathed, sagging back against the wall. "I hate this place."

Ray consulted the meter, not a bit ruffled by the near-miss. "I think we're close to the breach. Let's move on."

Zeddemore sighed in defeat and followed his younger colleague.

 

 

Egon had stayed on the ground floor, since the cellar was unreachable. The stairs had long ago broken down and someone had used the large subterranean rooms to dump heaps of rubble and garbage down there. The smell was nearly too much and the physicist had fled to the ground floor again, after making sure there was nothing otherdimensional anywhere.

In one of the rooms on the ground floor he found the remains of a chair. The dust on the floor was heavily disturbed and he could distinguish footprints. Furniture, covered by old sheets of dirty linen, stood in one corner. Spiders and cockroaches, accompanied by two rats, fled as he peeked under the covers. The heavy table and the cupboard would once have been an antiques' dealer's dream. Now they were nothing more than expensive firewood. Another room yielded no readings at all, but the shrieks and growls from the other room intensified. He glanced inside again.

Rhye was now fighting back against the golden ghost, which had grown considerably in size. Spengler didn't get it. From the information he had about DeathShadows, Rhye should be able to overpower the class-7. He should be able to use the power pouring from the breach just like the other entity, but somehow he didn't. Why? He frowned. It reminded him of something; something he had read about before. But what?

Egon's walkie talkie crackled and Ray's voice sounded over the tiny speaker.

"Egon, we found the breach. It appears it's in the master bedroom.  I can't see a thing, but the P.K.E. meter says its there."

"On my way," Egon answered. "Don't do anything."

There was a loud roar from the battle room again and the golden light flickered erratically. Egon ignored it and raced up to where Winston and Ray waited. A quick scan with the meter ascertained the fact that they where really standing in front of the--invisible--breach from one dimension to another.

"How do we close it?" Zeddemore wanted to know. "Simply fire at it full stream?"

Egon cocked an eyebrow. "That's exactly what we do, Winston," he said, a small smile playing around his lips. He powered up his thrower and the others did the same.

"The moment it starts to close we have to get out of here," Ray said tensely.

"What about Rhye and the detective?" Zeddemore wanted to know.

"We'll bring the detective out with us," the occultist decided firmly. "Rhye should be able to flee under his own power."

"On my mark," Egon said, catching their attention again, then: "Now!"

Three proton streams lanced out at the invisible breach.

 

* * *

 

Peter stared at the mansion. Something was going on inside and he didn't like sitting outside, waiting for his friends. His father had helped him into a more comfortable position, his back now leaning against the small wall that was on both sides of the stairs. Charlie Venkman had not spoken more than three words in the whole time he and his son had been alone, but Peter had not tried to make a lot of small talk either. He was angry at Charlie Venkman; angry for once again getting them into so much trouble over .... whatever. He glanced at his father, noting the grim lines and the taut face. Another hissing and roaring from the house made him turn back to the immediate crisis.

"I wonder what's going on in there," his father said unexpectedly.

"Only one way to find out," Peter answered and tried to push himself to his feet. It worked only half way, then his knees gave way and he sank back with a groan. He felt terribly tired and exhausted. It wasn't only the drug, it was the short run from the house, too. He cursed heartily.

His father wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steadied him back against the wall. "Take it easy, son. Your friends will get whatever nasty ghost is in there."

That was the moment a car pulled up the driveway to the house. It was a dark Ford Taurus with its headlights switched off, though it was already dark enough for them to be switched on. The car stopped beside Ecto-1 and two men got out.

Charles Venkman stiffened and whispered a name: "Lenard!"

Peter squinted at the men, recognizing them as his kidnappers. The men hadn't seen them, partly because of the falling darkness and partly because just beside the stairs was a large bush, grown wild and hanging over the entrance. The two men came closer.

"What now?" his father wanted to know.

Peter's lips turned into a thin white line.

 

* * *

 

Rhye was peripherally aware of the Ghostbusters' action on the second floor. The breach was something he had felt the minute the resident had attacked and drawn its power from there. If the breach was sealed now, the golden ghost would have to rely on the dark powers of the house alone. Rhye didn't know which was the worst danger, the black magic or the breach energy. Right now it didn't interest him very much. The battle was getting more and more heated, and the resident was coming through. He was tempted to simply use the dark powers around him, but that would mean loosing himself in the powers, and that would help no one, especially Kyle.

The human had not moved in all the time Rhye had been battling with the resident and even now, as he was coming slowly around, Rhye was aware of his friend's weakness. He wouldn't stand a single second against the resident. Kyle groaned slightly and his eyes fluttered open. Dazed and confused, he looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the scene around him.

"Rhye?" The question was a hoarse whisper and if the DeathShadow hadn't had such good hearing he would have missed it.

"Stay low, don't move," he ordered in a rumbled hiss and deflected another attack. Kyle gave an affirmative grunt, but kept on looking around. Suddenly the resident wailed and stopped his attack in mid-strike. The cloud pulsed and vibrated and moved toward the ceiling.

 _They're closing the breach_ , Rhye realized and watched as the resident became even more agitated, writhing and shrieking. Then it popped through the ceiling.

Rhye's immediate attention went to his human partner. "Kyle?" he asked softly.

The mage-detective blinked as if to chase away the shadows in front of his eyes. He was trembling badly and was barely able to lever himself up into a sitting position.

"Yeah? Wha' happen'?" he asked blurrily.

"Long story, no time. Are you okay?" Rhye closed one taloned hand carefully around Reese's upper arm and helped him sit up.

"Feel like I spent two weeks partying," the human muttered and inhaled deeply, wincing. "Make that three weeks." His eyes focused on the taloned hand and then traveled up to the black, shadowy figure looming above him. "That bad, huh?"

Rhye didn't have to answer. The last time he had fully reverted to his original form had been a long time ago, and it took a lot to make him do it.

There was a crashing sound from the floor above and Rhye looked up. The resident was giving the Ghostbusters a hard time.

Kyle had followed his line of sight and frowned. "Trouble?"

"The Ghostbusters. They're trying to trap the resident," his partner explained, straining his senses to tell more.

"Then why are you still here and not up there?" Kyle asked with a scowl.

Rhye wanted to object, wanted to stay, but the scowl only deepened further. He sighed. "Stay here," he said in a voice of command. "Don't do anything foolish." _Like you always end up doing_ , was added silently, but Kyle seemed to understand the look.

"Go," he simply said. "Get this mess straightened out."

Rhye, after another look back, left the room, his aim the second floor.

 

* * *

 

It was not going well. The breach was sealing too slowly and the resident not only had some objections to the closing, it was howlingly mad at what the Ghostbusters were trying to do. It had come up through the floor and was currently trying to make Winston its prime target, while Ray and Egon kept on firing at the breach.

"We can't close it!" the occultist panted. "We need at least three beams!"

Winston evaded yet another attack, coming up hard against the room's cabinet. "And where do we get one from?" he yelled over the howls and shrieks.

The two scientists couldn't answer that question. Peter was out, his father was out of the question anyway; Kyle Reese was somewhere downstairs and, judging from Rhye's reactions earlier, in no fighting shape. Which left the DeathShadow. Egon didn't dare theorize what shape the supernatural creature was in, or whether it would really help them.

The mansion shook once under their feet and somewhere a soft popping sound could be heard. The breach began to glow faintly, no outlines against the air. Another earthquake-like shaking.

"It's starting to pull in the house!" Ray called. "It's working!"

"But if we stop now it might open again," Egon shouted back, his thrower bucking wildly under all the power running through it; still it wasn't enough power.

The cabinet Winston had been leaning against suddenly moved toward the breach and began to twist. All over the building ominous cracking sounds could be hear.

At that second something shadowy black and powerful flowed into the master bedroom. The resident stopped his attack on Winston and growled, turning his attention on his new, old opponent.

"Close the breach," Rhye commanded, his voice cold and emotionless. He wasn't more than the proverbial shadow against the golden light, something you couldn't really see though it was there. The red scarf was the only spot of real color on him and it didn't really look like a scarf -- more like .... blood.

"You got it, man!" Winston breathed and got back to his feet.

 It suddenly felt very cold in the room. The cloak billowed around Rhye, revealing a human body with a slim waist and broad shoulders beneath it, though everything was black in black.

"Power up to full streams!" Egon ordered.

The three streams shot out again and the breach sealed further. The golden ghost hissed and struggled to protect its power flow, but the DeathShadow held him back.

The Ghostbusters didn't see most of the viscous battle, only heard it. Their whole concentration was on the breach. It now began to outline itself in a strong blue line, which was shrinking fast.

The quakes around them got worse and they nearly lost their balance. A wall went down, revealing the outside world.

"Egon!" Ray yelled, frantically trying to move away from the rapidly dwindling space around him. "How much more?"

Egon bit his lips, counted to ten, then yanked his overheated thrower off the breach. "Okay, get out of here!" he commanded and he didn't have to say it twice.

Winston and Ray made a dash for the doorway, which would now fit a whole truck with trailer. Egon followed them, trying not to look at the battling entities to their left. The golden ghost had started to glow in an even brighter golden color and was emitting high shrieking noises of rage. Part of it was trapped inside the cloak of shadow creature, which seemed to hold on to it, keeping it fixed in place. The cloak had perceptibly grown in size, appearing like large wings.

 _Trap it!_

The command echoed through Egon's mind and he started. From Ray's and Winston's reactions, they had heard the voice, too.

"If we trap it, we might trap Rhye, too!" Ray said unhappily, for a second forgetting about the mansion which was ready to go completely at any second.

 _Do it! Don't worry about me!_

Egon nodded at his two friends, leveling his thrower at the ghost.

"Do you think our traps can hold it, Egon?" Winston called over from his position. "Ray said it is a class-7!"

 _It's weakening. You can trap it. Do it now!_

The urgency in the voice could not be mistaken. The three men fired and the golden cloud was trapped in the confinement streams. Ray tossed out a trap and waited until they had positioned the ghost over it, then stomped onto the trigger. There was a burst of brilliant light from the open trap and the ghost shrieked more, struggling against the suction. Then it disappeared and the doors closed.

There was a second of utter silence in the room. Nobody spoke a single word. Then as if sound had decided to come back, harsh breathing filled the silence, followed by a loud bang as something heavy hit the floor in the next room.

"Wow!" Ray breathed finally, staring around. His eyes fell on the creature in the doorway. The cloak had shrunken back to normal size, enveloping the human shadow like a protective shield. The metallic silver eyes appeared dulled and full of pain.

"Are you all right?" Ray asked, though he knew that Rhye couldn't possibly be. He also wondered how he had been able to escape the suction of the trap. Then again, he wasn't their normal, average ghost. He didn't even appear on a P.K.E. meter.

 _You have to get out of here. The building is falling partly into the breach._

As if to tell them, the house groaned and creaked. The Ghostbusters dashed off.

A shot echoed through the mansion and the three men flinched.

"Peter!" Ray exclaimed.

 _Kyle_ , was the whisper heard in their heads and the shadow dispersed into nothingness.

Egon, Ray and Winston ran for the stairs, since the shot had evidently come from downstairs. Everyone hoped fervently that it wouldn't be what they thought was the worst possible thing imaginable.

 

* * *

 

Kyle was feeling utterly weak and exhausted. He wasn't really aware of what had happened, only that he had been sucked dry and had nearly died, if it hadn't been for some heavenly intervention or, in his case, some unearthly demonic intervention. Now he was sitting with his back against the wall of the room where the battle had taken place, and  listening to what sounds he could make out. His magic feelers were numbed or cut off and he felt like someone had robbed him of his vital senses.

The sound of a battle came from upstairs. He could make out the whine and sizzle of the Ghostbusters' proton streams. They were up against the resident and Kyle hasn't sure they were on the winning side.

The house began to shiver like an angered animal, trying to shake some fleas off its pelt.

 _Uh-oh! Time to leave this party._

Pulling himself together, he tried to climb to his feet. It was an action he hadn't thought of as being very hard, but it was. He had great difficulty staying upright, let alone stopping the world from spinning all around him. The earthquakes didn't help. The detective took a tentative step forward, keeping one hand stretched out to the wall for balance. He made it to the door in less time than he had thought, but it still took long enough.

The entrance hall stretched out before him, like an infinite room with the outside door too far away to ever be reached in his lifetime. And then the door opened and two men stumbled in. One collapsed on the floor and Kyle recognized Peter Venkman. The second man, older, but looking definitely like family, knelt down immediately and tried to help the Ghostbuster.

 _Charles Venkman_ , Reese realized.

And then Lenard and his goon followed. The detective felt his stomach clench. Great! Now they had a real problem.

He fumbled for his weapon, taking it into shaking hands. He didn't quite know what Lenard wanted to do with the Venkmans, but he had a very good imagination. Now that he had both father and son, there wouldn't be any more deals. He could kill Charles Venkman for what he had done to him, and then kill his son; just for kicks.

Lenard looked up to the second floor as he became aware of the howling and screeching, and the proton beam fire. He frowned and gestured for his accomplice to go and take a look. The blond man complied and went toward the stairs, while Lenard stayed with his prisoners, half his attention on the ruckus on the second floor.

The house creaked ominously and cracks appeared in the ceiling. Plaster rained down on the floor and part of the neighboring room caved in, a dust cloud billowing out of it.

That was the moment Peter Venkman, foolishly in Reese's eyes, tried something. He was still lying on the floor, his father hovering at his side. Kyle had seen him narrow his eyes and take in the situation, judging his chances--and he had evidently come up with something in his favor. And he acted.

Lenard tumbled over as Venkman kicked him hard into the knees. His father jumped for the gun, completely ignoring the blond accomplice, who had been walking up the right wing of the stone staircase. But the man turned at the sound of the struggle and aimed his weapon, not thinking twice about what to do and how to act.

Kyle acted too.

"Police!" he yelled. "Put down your weapon! You're under arrest!"

The blond turned without hesitation, taking aim at Kyle and pulling the trigger. Reese did the same; he fired his weapon.

The shot rang loudly in the suddenly silent mansion. He didn't know when the noises from upstairs had stopped, but it was evidently over; whatever had gone on up there. The blond was whirled around by the impact of the bullet and fell, landing in a messy heap at the foot of the stairs; unconscious. The bullet he had fired from his own weapon chipped some stone off the wall next to Reese.

Kyle sagged down at the frame of the door, breathing heavily. He knew he hadn't killed the man with his shot, merely wounded him, though he had aimed for the heart, but his unsteady hands had taken the bullet off target. Lucky for the blond. Reese turned his head to where the two Venkmans were struggling with the head of the operation, Jean Lenard. Charles Venkman now held the handgun, pointing it awkwardly at the kidnapper, a grim smile on his face. Peter Venkman was still lying on the floor, breathing heavily,  way too pale and just short of passing out.

The house began to rumble again and in front of the men's startled eyes, part of it simply folded up on itself and disappeared.

"Shit!" Kyle cursed heartily, though it took a lot of energy. He had a good idea what was happening here.

Lots of shouting and running from upstairs made the detective aware of the others coming. A hand closed around his shoulder and he turned his head; an immense effort. Rhye's dull metallic silver eyes looked worriedly at him. Kyle managed to give him a reassuring smile as he felt the cautious probing of the DeathShadow's thoughts inside of his mind.

 _Call the cops_ , he told his friend. _I'm all right. Just tired._

 _You have to get out of here_ , Rhye answered, not waiting for Reese to say anything in return, merely hauling him up and dragging him over to the door. Though he was not in his prime where his energy level was concerned, he was still strong enough to lift the human. Kyle felt the coldness of the shadowy body next to him and shivered as tendrils of black cloak enveloped him. That, even more than Rhye's appearance, told him how bad his friend's condition was. Normally, the DeathShadow had complete control over his body, never letting anyone feel what he really was.

The Ghostbusters had made it over to their friends and Lenard, one of them picking up the blond accomplice on the steps, shoving him over to the front door. They all stumbled or half fell out of the mansion, which was now beginning to crack even further. A shower of plaster and dust rained on them as they hastened away from it as far as they could.

Kyle turned his head and saw as part of the house began to vanish. Bright light danced around the whole structure, low rumbles and popping noises filling the approaching darkness of the evening. Then, suddenly, everything was silent.

"Gee!" Ray Stantz whispered, amazed and awed, breathing heavily.

Reese knew what he felt. He experienced the same. Most of the mansion was gone, disappeared to another dimension. Most of the left side of the building was still there, floors sticking out and forming odd angles. The cellar was still completely there, as was most of the roof. It hung there, supported by the remaining mansion. It wouldn't take a strong wind to crash it down completely.

"The disturbances I read when we arrived are gone," Spengler reported, pocketing his P.K.E. meter afterwards.

Everyone relaxed a fraction. It was over; for the most part at least.

 _Rhye, call the cops now_ , Kyle begged his friend.

Rhye nodded and after squeezing his shoulder once more, disappeared. Kyle sank back, closing his eyes. He was so tired.

 

* * *

 

The police arrived about half an hour later, followed by an ambulance. The paramedics checked Peter first, who was getting back some color, though he was still in bad shape; then they went over to Kyle Reese, who didn't look much better than parched linen. Since Peter didn't need monitoring, the paramedics agreed in letting the Ghostbusters take him to the hospital, while the ambulance would drive with Reese.

The police arrested both Jean Lenard and his blond companion. The paramedics called in that they needed a second ambulance to transport a wounded prisoner. The dispatcher acknowledged and told them it would come in the next few minutes. True to the word, a second ambulance arrived and took two police officers with the prisoner to the hospital.

The remaining officers interviewed the Ghostbuster while the paramedics and the other ambulance were still busy. Egon promised to come down to the station the next day if they'd now let them ride to the hospital with their friend. The police had no objections.

The nearest hospital was a twenty minutes drive from Jason Manor and very small compared to New York City standards. Peter was examined by a doctor and blood samples were taken. Ignoring Peter's loud protests and objections they admitted him overnight. He had been knocked unconscious, drugged, remained unconscious throughout the whole drug inquisition, and had then beaten himself up while trying to escape. The emergency room doctor made it quite clear that he intended to bind the psychologist to the bed if he didn't stay voluntarily. Peter shut up in the end, but still grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath when they wheeled him to his room.

Egon, Ray and Winston had spent the time waiting in the waiting room. Charlie Venkman had been pacing the room first, then settled down to wait with them. When the door opened, they all looked up. But instead of a doctor, a slim woman in her late twenties entered. She wasn't one of those knock-'em-dead gorgeous girls, but was beautiful in her own way, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and grey eyes.

She looked at them. "You're the Ghostbusters?"

Ray, a bit surprised by her question since she was obviously neither a nurse, nor a reporter, nodded. "Yes," he confirmed and introduced them. "And who are you?"

She smiled slightly. "Sorry. My name is Cerrington McKinney-Reese. I'm Detective Reese's wife."

The four men were stunned. Somehow none of them had considered the possibility that Reese was married.

"Uhm, why don't you sit down?" Winston asked and made an inviting gesture.

She flashed him another beautiful smile and sat down. "The doctor didn't tell me much," she began. "Only that he's not in danger." Cerrington McKinney-Reese lifted an eyebrow. "Can you tell me more about what happened?"

They exchanged glances. What did she know about her husband? Or his partner? Or her husband's abilities? Cerrington seemed to interpret their looks correctly.

"I know everything about my husband, gentlemen," she added with an amused look. "And Rhye," she added.

"Are you talented, too?" Ray wanted to know, interest shining in his eyes.

She chuckled a bit. "No. I don't have an ounce of magical talent."

They exchanged another look, then the three Ghostbusters began to tell her everything. Cerrington Reese took it all quite well and was very calm throughout the narration. When they had finished, Cerrington nodded as if that was exactly what she had expected.

"Mrs. Reese," Egon began. "I know this is not the right time, but I have some questions about your husband's partner."

She smiled encouragingly. "I've gone through much worse, Dr. Spengler. And please call me Cerry. Well, what do you want to know? I have to warn you. I don't know much."

"My only question is what you can tell me about him. He's a unique being."

She laughed softly. "Yes, he is. And I don't know very much. I met Rhye the first time when Kyle was shot in the line of duty, a few months after we married. He helped me through the worst and I didn't even know who he was then. Kyle introduced me later." She smiled wryly. "I was quite shocked."

"Understandable," Winston muttered.

"Since I met him for the first time all I know about him, really know about him, is that he died somewhere around the 1940s." Egon's eyebrows rose perceptibly. "He also said that he needs Kyle, but he never explained why." She shrugged.

That was when the door opened again and admitted the E.R. doctor, all men looked up.

"Gentlemen," the dark-haired man greeted them, smiling. "Mrs. Reese. My name is Dr. Rick Grayson."

The smile did a lot to dissolve the tension in the room.

"How is my boy?" Charlie asked anxiously.

"He's just fine, judging from the vociferous complaints all the way from the emergency room to his room."

The men relaxed even more. The more Peter complained, the better he felt. It was a quiet, closemouthed Peter Venkman that made one worry.

"His blood tests showed some heavy traces of several drugs, but he's working it out just fine," Grayson continued. "The cuts and abrasions will heal in time and there won't be any scars. Right now he's very tired and I suspect he'll fall asleep in the next few minutes. You can see him, but don't strain him. If you'd take my advice, come back tomorrow. Then Peter should be in much better shape."

Egon nodded, knowing it was a good advice, but still intent to pay Peter a quick visit. He also knew that Peter would want to see them, to make sure none of them were hurt.

"How is my husband?" Cerrington wanted to know.

Grayson rubbed his chin. "Detective Reese was completely exhausted when I last saw him. He fell almost immediately asleep when I was done with him. Blood tests show no trace of drugs, but his adrenaline level was still abnormally high. Since there's nothing physically wrong with him, we'll keep an eye on him tonight. I think if he gets enough sleep and rest in the next few days, he'll be okay and back to his normal self soon."

Cerrington McKinney-Reese smiled in relief.

Grayson looked from one to another. "He couldn't tell me what exactly had happened and I suspect it's a false hope to think you can spread some light, correct?"

The Ghostbusters nodded.

The E.R. doctor sighed. "Well, I think it's for the better. Dr. Venkman is in room 409. Detective Reese has room 451. Don't make it too long," Grayson added, then said good-bye and left the waiting room again.

The Ghostbusters said good-bye to Cerrington as she went to see her husband, and searched for Peter's room. As they arrived in front of the room, Charlie Venkman stopped, displaying a sudden hesitance. Egon, knowing what was going through the older man, placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded toward the door.

"Go in, Mr. Venkman. We'll wait outside." He gave the others a look and they nodded in agreement.

The older Venkman licked his lips. "Maybe I should return tomorrow," he said softly.

Spengler shook his head. "No, you shouldn't." With that he shoved the man toward the door.

 

 

Charlie Venkman hesitated one more second, debating whether he should just turn and run, then entered the room, looking around. Peter wasn't the only one in the room, though the second occupant wasn't home right now. The bed to his son's left was unmade and personal items were scattered on the night stand. Peter seemed to be asleep, lying flat on his back, a pillow propped under his head. He was still pale and an IV was attached to one hand.

Venkman senior stopped at the foot of the bed, gazing at his sleeping son. He had been really lucky. More than lucky. It couldn't be put into words. He son could have died, could have been killed--because of him. That hit him more than anything else that had happened. He could handle that strange guy, Masters or Reese; he could handle ghosts; he could even handle disappearing buildings. But Lenard had kidnapped his son, intent on getting back on Charles Venkman because he had sold him a fake scroll. And Venkman had been pretty sure the thing had been the real thing. Lenard had paid a lot of money to buy it from him and he had even given it to an expert to make sure it wasn't a fake.

But it had been.

Charlie sighed softly. The money had been immediately spent on other things, like old debts. He wouldn't have been able to pay back Lenard even if he had wanted to--which would have meant Peter's death. A grim line settled on his taut face. No, he wouldn't have sacrificed Peter for his own screw-ups. He would have exchanged himself for his son, whatever would have happened after that.  Peter was his only child and his pride. He had grown into a respected man with some very good and real friends; something Charlie admired and envied.

He became aware of the pair of green eyes studying him quite intensely.

"Hello, Dad," Peter greeted him sleepily.

"Hello, my son." Charlie came carefully closer, as if he was afraid Peter might bite him. "How do you feel?"

"Lousy." The dark-haired psychologist grinned wryly. "They drew enough blood out of my veins for a dinner for a vampire and pumped me full of medications afterwards." He raised the hand with the IV. "And now they've hooked my up to that. What else can a man wish for?"

Charlie smiled, his hands playing with the sheet of the bed, not meeting his son's eyes. Peter waited for a long time, eyeing his father thoughtfully.

"Dad?" he finally said softly.

Venkman senior looked up, appearing insecure and guilty. It was something Peter had never seen on his face before. Guilt. Real, pure guilt.

"Dad, what's up?"

"Nothing," Charlie said quickly.

"Dad?"

"Yes?" Venkman tried to hold his son's gaze, but was unable to.

"What is wrong?" Peter prodded, thinking he knew what it was. When there was another denial, he sighed. "It's the kidnapping, right?" he finally said bluntly.

His father flinched and bit his lips. "I'm sorry, son," he finally said in a low voice. "It all happened because of me. If I hadn't sold that damn scroll, you wouldn't be here now."

"Right you are."

The older Venkman's eyes widened a bit as he heard those cruel words.

"How often have I told you to leave your fingers off those scams?" Peter went on relentlessly, feeling he had the right to set his father's head straight. "You sold ponchos which were supposed to keep off ghosts. What happened? You got lost in the Parallelogram and we had to come and get a whole expedition -- which trusted in your ponchos -- out of there. And then the Hob. You called us, let us play your little game and the end of it was that New York was nearly redecorated by a giant demon. I don't want to remind you of that treasure hunt down in Mexico."

"I know you're angry, son ..." Charlie began.

"Angry? Angry isn't the word for it," Peter exclaimed. "I was drugged, kidnapped, drugged again, attacked by a ghost and then nearly had the luck to pop out of existence with a whole building! It's not what I call a fun day, y'know!"

His father studied the floor. "I know. And I'm sorry about what happened. I really didn't think it was something harmful. It was just a piece of paper ..."

"And the Parallelogram was just a myth and the Hob was simply a block of black ice. When are you going to learn it, Dad? When?" Peter asked hotly. "Not everything is as it seems. Especially the magic stuff. Everything worked out fine thanks to some luck and a lot of help we might not have had at all. Detective Reese nearly lost his life trying to save my butt! What about next time? Maybe next time you'll really kill someone."

Charlie flinched violently and Peter bit his lip, knowing that he might have gone too far. But he had had to say it.

"About the money," he began, spent by his tirade.

"I don't have it any longer," his father muttered. "I had to repay some debts."

"And nothing is left? I thought you'd made some big bucks with the thing?" He raised an eyebrow. "The scroll made big bucks, right? Don't tell me I spent time in a roaches and rat infested house for nothing! Not to speak of the ghost."

Charlie grinned at the mock outrage. "Yeah, I made some big bucks." The grin broadened. "And I heard of a guy who's selling  the ....."

"Dad!" Peter protested immediately. "I don't wanna hear about it!"

Charlie Venkman immediately dropped the subject, looking guilt-ridden again. Peter grabbed his father's hand and squeezed it slightly.

"Promise me to keep your hands off magical stuff in the future, Dad, okay? I don't ask much of you, really, only this. Please? And no twisting out of that promise!"

The older Venkman nodded seriously. "I promise, son. I'll keep my hands off the stuff. I learned my lesson."

"I really hope so. I'd hate to go through that again," Peter muttered. "The only good thing is the fact that there's this beautiful nurse ..."

His father chuckled slightly. Then he looked over his shoulder at the door. "I think your friends want to pay you a visit, too. So if you don't mind .... I'll come back tomorrow."

Peter shook his head. "No, I don't mind." He pulled at the hand he was still holding and his father bent forward. Peter lifted his arms around him, hugging him.

Charlie returned the hug, then, as Peter sank back into the bed, he went over to the door. Before he exited the room he turned once again back to his son. A smile creased his face as he took in the sight of the younger man in the hospital bed, counting himself immensely lucky his son was still alive. The he closed the door and went down the corridor to where the other three, very worried Ghostbusters were waiting.

"Come on, boys," he shooed them off to the room Peter lay in. "If you wanna see him awake you'll better go and get in."

 

 

Egon was the first to enter the room, his eyes immediately flying over to Peter's bed. The psychologist seemed to be sleeping, his eyes closed. But when the door shut behind Winston, who had been the last to come in, he opened his eyes.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them. "You look dreadful."

"Look who's talking," Winston said with mock disdain.

Ray quickly went over to Peter's bedside. "How are you, Peter?" he asked anxiously, studying him closely, noting all the little cuts and bruises, the pale skin and the tiredness etched into his friend's face.

The psychologist managed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Ray. Thanks to you guys bailing me out of there in time."

"Actually, it was Detective Reese," Egon informed him.

"Yeah, well, but I think we'd been in a whole lotta trouble if you hadn't busted that golden critter." Peter smiled.

Egon eyed him closely, making sure he was really, really all right. Doctors could say a lot; nurses were trained to reassure people; but there was nothing to compare to the living proof of the words they had heard.

Peter smothered a yawn. "Damn medication," he mumbled. He raised his hand where the IV ran into. "I feel like a needle pad," he complained. "And every time I saw a gorgeous nurse all she wanted was my blood."

"They're all out for blood, Pete," Winston chuckled. "Especially yours. You have a reputation with nurses."

Peter threw him a dirty look. "We'll see about that when I have a date with Nurse Lang and you don't," he countered.

Egon and Ray exchanged a look, Egon noticing Ray's relief at seeing Peter alive and well, though obviously tired and weak. The quips and complaints worked well on Ray to relax him. Egon knew that a lot of Peter's words were formulated to reach just that point. And it was a success.

Venkman smothered another yawn.

"I think we should leave now," Egon said. "Peter needs rest."

"We'll come back tomorrow," Ray promised.

Peter yawned in response, settling deeper into his bed. Smiling fondly Egon ruffled the younger man's hair. Peter roused again with a protesting cry.

"I hate that!"

"I know," the blond said and then squeezed Peter's shoulder.

Green eyes looked at him, then Peter smiled reassuringly at his older friend. He knew that Egon had been worried; all his friends had been worried, but everything was okay now and he tried to project that through his attitude.

Egon nodded ever so slightly, then gave Peter's shoulder one last squeeze.

"See you tomorrow," Peter said and pulled the blanket up to his chin, and then the door closed behind the three Ghostbusters. Seconds later Peter was deep asleep.

 

* * *

 

Peter was released from hospital the next day, with the stern advice to take it easy and to check in with his physician for another examination. Egon, Ray and Winston, who had shown up to drive him home, promised to make sure that Peter got enough rest -- though he'd probably become insufferable after a few days.

At home Peter was welcomed by Slimer and Janine. He fended off the slimy mascot, though it didn't keep the ghost from giving him a sloppy kiss.

"Yeech!" Peter exclaimed and wiped the ectoplasm away.

"Welcome home, Dr. V." Janine approached him, stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Peter was speechless for a second, but was able to catch himself in time not to get completely lost. "Well, I think I should get kidnapped more often," he quipped, "if that's the welcome I get when I return."

Janine's eyes sparked with anger for a second. "Don't say that, Dr. V!"

The psychologist smiled reassuringly at her. "Hey, I don't plan to make it a habit."

She snorted. "You'd better not." With that she turned on her heel and went back to her desk, but there was no mistaking the caring expression in her eyes.

Peter stretched a bit. "I feel ready to crash on the couch," he announced. "With a soda in one hand and the remote in the other."

"How about some popcorn to go with the soda?" Winston asked sarcastically.

Peter smiled broadly. "You're in, buddy. Get the popcorn going, I'm on the couch." He went over to the stairs, trying not to show how weak he suddenly felt. "I'm a very sick man."

"Only in your dreams, homeboy," Zeddemore returned, knowing that Peter would expect to be waited on hand on foot. He'd try to get away with that as long as possible, get out of his chores and just lie there; well, as long as the others didn't throw him from the couch.

Ray and Egon followed their friend up the stairs, trying not to hover, but failed.

Winston stayed downstairs, still grinning. "Whatever you throw at him, he'll never change," he said, shaking his head.

"God beware," Janine spoke up.

The black Ghostbuster nodded. God beware of Peter Venkman ever changing. He wouldn't want his friend any other way.

 

* * *

 

Kyle Reese sat at the table, playing with the pasta on his plate. He stretched out a magic finger and shoved at the plate. It didn't even so much as shake at the touch. Frustrated, he threw the fork down and shoved the plate away with mundane methods, suddenly feeling not hungry any more.

Cerry McKinney-Reese picked up the plate and studied the food like an interesting specimen of a possible new life form.

"Is it the pasta, the cheese or the oregano?" she asked lightly.

Kyle managed a grin as he looked into her brown eyes. "None of it. I'm just not hungry."

She snorted. "Right. I'll remind you of when you raid the fridge tonight." With that she disappeared into the kitchen.

"It takes time for magic to heal and return," a dark voice said softly.

Kyle snorted in disgust. "It's been over three days! I feel like someone put impenetrable walls around me!"

Rhye, in his human appearance, sat down opposite and regarded him patiently. He had been hovering around his human friend for the last few days, something he had quit doing a long time ago -- after Kyle had told him to stop playing his shadow. Normally Rhye spent his 'off time' somewhere Kyle didn't want to know.

"You will heal, Kyle." A scowl appeared on Rhye's forehead. "And let that be a lesson to you. Never pour all your magic into one shield. You were lucky. It could have ended fatally -- for you."

Reese sighed, standing and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I know, I know. You tell me that three times a day, seven days a week. But it was the only way. Venkman would have died for sure if I hadn't done it."

Rhye nodded in agreement. "I'm not saying anything else. Just be more careful, okay? I'd hate to lose you because of such a dumb stunt."

For a second their eyes met until Rhye looked away. Kyle shivered a bit, knowing that something had been confessed by the otherworldly entity, right here and now, something that embarrassed the DeathShadow. Once more he wished he knew more about his strange partner. Then again, maybe it was for the better. For a second his mind flashed back to a moment in their partnership were Rhye had said something he was just now coming to understand. _You're the light of the dark side of me._

"You'll better write it down," Cerry could be heard as she exited the kitchen and smiled at the two unusual friends. "Kyle's got a terrible memory for such small things."

Kyle grimaced, but stood and gave his wife a light kiss. "Gotta run. The lieutenant picked me for a stake-out." He grimaced. "I think she's trying to punish me for something."

Rhye chuckled, but kept his opinion to himself. He watched as Kyle dressed, kissed his wife good-bye and left.

Left alone with the supernatural being Cerry turned and raised one dark eyebrow. "Well, here we are with another lonely evening with nothing on the tube. Are you in for a match of chess or monopoly, or do want to go out in the night and ponder the world and things in general in some lonely dark alleyway?"

Rhye laughed softly. "Monopoly sounds just fine."

 

* * *

 

A few days after what had happened at the Jason Manor the Ghostbusters went over to the police precinct. They still had a statement to make concerning Jean Lenard and the kidnapping. Charlie Venkman accompanied them, after he had spent the last two days with his son, never letting him out of his sight. Peter didn't say anything about that since he knew how his father felt.

Lt. Walker greeted them, smiling warmly at Egon, then turning to Peter. "Dr. Venkman," she said, nodding.

Peter flashed her a brilliant smile. "Hello, Amanda."

"You look remarkably good," she went on, eyeing him critically. "Any problems because of the drugs?"

The psychologist shook his head. "Nope. Nothing at all. The doctor says I'll keep on living." He grinned broadly.

"What about Lenard?" Ray wanted to know. "We just made our statement, but it wasn't much really."

"Every bit counts," the copper-haired woman explained. "But to answer your question: Lenard will go behind bars for a long, long time. If your father," she flashed a look at Peter, "will sign his own statement, he might never see the light of the day again. There are charges for kidnapping, attempted murder and suspicion of multiple homicide on the list. We found some clues to what else might have happened at Jason Manor. The detectives in charge believe he killed several people there."

"Which might account to the strong breach in the house." Egon nodded. "Violent deaths can trigger dimensional breaches when enough latent magical energy is already working in the place. And with Jason Manor it was a very powerful black magic."

"What about Detective Reese?" Winston asked. "Is he in charge of the case?"

Amanda Walker nodded. "Yes. He showed up for work yesterday, despite my warning not to." She grinned wryly. "I don't know what exactly happened at the house, but from the way he looked when I saw him it was a very wild party."

The four Ghostbusters exchanged glances. Lt. Walker didn't know about Kyle's abilities and it didn't look like she should know any time soon; especially not from them. It was Reese's decision when and if to tell his superior.

"It was kinda rough for a while," Peter agreed, evading a direct answer.

"We would like to talk to Detective Reese. He helped us find Peter and we want to thank him," Spengler spoke up.

Amanda nodded, partly accepting that she might never get a straight answer out of anyone about this. "He's in right now. He's still got some paperwork to do. And there's always the talks with the lawyers, the judges and so on; besides the fact that this is not his only case." She shrugged, then pointed toward the rear end of the squad room. "Reese's desk is down there. You can't miss it. It's a heap of paper and junk wrappers."

They thanked her and promised to come by once in a while. Then they walked over, finding the desk as easily as they had been told. Kyle Reese, dressed in jeans and a white shirt, a tie hanging loosely around his neck, was obviously poring over some files while playing with a Snickers candy bar. The wrappers Amanda had been talking about littered his immediate area.

"Detective Reese?" Ray asked.

The blond man looked up, a smile creasing his features as he recognized them. He appeared every bit as pale as Peter did, his exhaustion from the ordeal still visible in his blue eyes, though they sparkled with life.

"Hi there," he greeted them. "Nice of you to drop by. How ya doing?"

"That's what we wanted to ask you," Peter said with a smile, flopping down on one of the two visitors' chairs, Ray taking the second one, while Egon and Winston decided to stand. "You looked a bit out of it when everything was over."

"Oh, I'm fine." He held up the candy bar. "Lots of sugar and rest, and then I'll be okay again."

"That doesn't look like rest to me," Winston spoke up, pointing at the desk full of work. A small black statue of a woman in a flowing dress peeked out of the masses of paper. It was the only visible private item on the desk.

"It's more restful than running around outside and hunting down some witnesses," the detective explained. "Or trying not to flood the apartment while doing the washing."

"What about Mr. Masters?" Ray asked then, using Rhye's alias.

"He's never been good at mundane household chores," Kyle quipped. "Cerry banned him from the laundry room after he produced a major flooding the last time." Then he grew serious, looking around as if to ascertain that no one was listening in. He seemed to come to the conclusion that the squad room was too noisy and too public and motioned them to follow him.

"Not here," he said as an explanation.

He led them over to dayroom of the precinct, which -- at this time of the day -- was empty. Getting himself a cup of hot chocolate he motioned them to sit down.

"I know you have a lot of questions," he began, "most of them concerning Rhye. I hope you understand that I can't answer all of them."

"Can't or won't," Peter wanted to know.

"Can't, Dr. Venkman," Kyle clarified. "The things I know about my partner are few and I don't know if I want to know everything. He's scary and dangerous, and I can't honestly say that he won't revert to his true nature any time." He sipped his hot chocolate and then shrugged at their curious glances.

"How come you and such an entity work together?" Winston finally asked. "If he's really such a dangerous critter, why let him hang around? You don't really know if he won't suddenly decide to chop your head off -- just for fun."

"Try chasing him off, Mr. Zeddemore," Reese chuckled. "You can't get rid of a DeathShadow that easily. But seriously: he's saved my butt on more than one occasion and he teaches me some things about my powers. He's a good teacher, I've to confess. What he gets out of it I can only guess. I think he needs me to stay sane, or something. He mentioned once that I'm his anchor."

Spengler pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I read something about that in 'Tobin's'," he told the others. "If he doesn't have an anchor, he'll dissolve quite quickly. DeathShadows come into existence through extreme violence and if they don't feed regularly or bind to an anchor they'll perish."

There was an odd look on Kyle's face. "They exist because of violence?" he asked doubtfully, but there was also a note of fear in his voice.

"No, they are born out of an act of extreme violence," the blond physicist clarified. "'Tobin's' believes that to continue this existence they feed on strong emotions. Since the strongest emotions are always those of fear and anger, DeathShadows try to keep close to those people emitting a lot of the needed emotions; which doesn't mean that love and caring can't be a strong emotion, too."

Reese rubbed his forehead. "Oh, boy," he muttered. "I wish you hadn't told me that. That throws a whole new light on him."

"Why?" Ray wanted to know. "It doesn't necessarily mean Rhye feeds on violence. Egon said that if they bind to an anchor, they are stopped from dying, too." He gave the blond detective an encouraging smile. "And you said he mentioned something like it once."

There was a still doubtful expression on Reese's face, but he nodded. "I hope you don't plan on busting him," he suddenly said.

"No," Ray assured him quickly. "No, we don't. He helped us save Peter and he also assisted in busting the resident. We were just wondering how he is."

"Fine." Kyle said. "He's fine. Still grumbling about me being dumb enough to enter a dark area, but that'll stop in a few days." He grinned. "I'm used to it. If it isn't him, it's Cerry. Never should have introduced them to each other."

The door opened and a dark-haired woman in a blue officer's uniform poked her head inside. "Reese, the guy from store is here. He says he finally wants to talk."

"Coming, Janet." He gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, I've gotta get back to work." He went over to the door. "Nice of you to drop by. If you ever need a detective again, call me." He flashed them another grin, then left.

Egon, Ray, Peter and Winston did the same, after saying good-bye to Amanda Walker. As they drove back to the firehouse, Ray looked thoughtfully at the passing scenery.

"What do you think?" he finally asked.

"Think of what, buddy?" Peter wanted to know.

"Detective Reese and the DeathShadow."

Winston shrugged, keeping his eyes on the street. "As long as that entity keeps its peace and doesn't threaten anyone, it's fine with me."

Peter turned to the silent Egon. "You know something, don't you, big guy?"

The physicist seemed to jerk out of his thoughts. "Yes, indeed."

"Well?" The younger man raised his eyebrows.

"What do we know about him?" Egon asked in return. "He died violently in the 1940s. His previous life was commanded by evil, that's why his freed soul was pure evil. Somehow his encounter with Kyle Reese partly transformed him back to a reasonable creature. His 'natural' form is a black-clad being with a large cloak and a hat."

Ray's eyes widened. "You don't think ...?"

"Yes, I do."

Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Translation?" he asked.

"I believe that the human Rhye came from, whose soul he is, is Lamont Cranston. He was known as The Shadow in the 1920s and 1930s here in New York. He fought against crime, but it was rumored that he was an evil creature, driven to repay for his sins by helping the ones in need."

"I read about him in one of those Mysterious People books. Someone actually wrote a whole book about him," Winston spoke up. "He disappeared in 1944 or 1945."

"Correct."

"And now he's back?" Venkman asked.

"His ghost is back," the physicist corrected.

"Why has the Occult Community never heard of him?" Ray shook his head. "This should have made the news quite quickly. Rhye has strong powers and Kyle has high magical potentials."

"Some people know how to hide," Peter said. "Like my dad. God knows where he's gone off to this time and when I'll hear from him again." He shrugged with a fatalistic smile. "Maybe Reese knows how to hide what he is. Rhye certainly does."

"But still ...." Ray went on, frowning. "Maybe we should research those dark areas more closely, Egon."

"Very good idea, Ray," the physicist agreed and seconds later the two scientist were lost in theories and complicated calculations.

Peter sighed and looked and Winston. "Well, how about some pizza for lunch?"

Winston grinned and shook his head as more and more tech term sentences could be heard from Ray and Egon. "Good idea, m'man. Very good idea."


End file.
